


Disappear

by GeekAttack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Aurors, Corrupt Ministry, F/M, Fake Marriage, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Hogwarts, Pureblood Society, Sexual Harassment, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-03 23:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 47,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4117936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekAttack/pseuds/GeekAttack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything is not what it seems. The Ministry. The Malfoys. Hermione and Ron's relationship. Once Hermione Granger agrees to work undercover alongside Draco Malfoy after working at a desk job for 4 years, everything begins to reveal itself. But is it too late? </p>
<p>Draco/Hermione</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shadow

It was a terribly rainy night, as was expected in England, but today of all days was much worse than usual. Somewhere, a blonde-haired man wrapped his dark cloak tighter around himself as he entered a dimly lit tavern. The man was disgusted with the state of the tavern- old, grimy, and covered with an excessive use of wood. Of course, that didn’t matter to him, for the risk of him being recognized there was low.

As he strode towards the bar, he felt eyes curiously observe him from afar. Not that the man minded all that much, he knew he was an attractive man. Albeit, cocky too. 

“Two shots of firewhiskey.” Under the shabby light you could see the man’s features more clearly. His hair plastered to his face, still wet from the weather. Hollow, grey eyes that seem to haunt your own. 

The soft murmuring of the tavern had become much louder since he had entered, and the sound of horrible muggle music began to play in the background. The blonde sneered, roughly grasping the drinks placed in front of him and slamming a few crumpled bills onto the counter.

“Don’t take your anger out on the counter; what has it ever done to you?” a voice that belonged to the man he was planning to meet, teased. The bar stool creaked as his companion took a seat next to him. 

“Potter,” the blonde-haired man raised his glass to the man beside him, and forced it down is throat. Revelling in the searing fire running through him, like being shocked with electricity. 

Green eyes glanced at him judgementally, “If you drink too much, Malfoy, I’m not going to be the one holding back your hair.”

“I didn’t come here to be scolded, wonder boy. What the bloody hell does the Ministry want? They better not be interfering with my mission. Let me remind you that you need me, and therefore things need to go my way,” Draco threatened darkly, but calmly. He cradled his drink in his delicate hands. 

Potter laughed dryly, “I promise it won’t be too bad, ferret. It appears that the Ministry still doesn’t trust you fully, and finds it necessary to send someone else in as well.” He spoke with an undertone of bitterness. The green-eyed man then began to fiddle with his own hands, rough and worn out. 

Draco’s face twisted at the sound of his words. Of course. The Ministry still didn’t trust him. After such a long time of fighting, people still couldn’t get over the history of his family. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, isn’t that right? Merlin, he even became an Auror trying to get people to look past his name.

How funny is that? That a name could hold such power. Such presence. Malfoy. Potter. Voldemort. Even without knowing who they were, you knew their character. Why do I even try? Draco thought. 

“The Ministry wishes to send someone else with me? Just in case I really am working with them and just deceiving you. Isn’t that correct?”

The messy haired man furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. Draco knew that he had learned to respect Potter, and that Potter had grown to respect him. They both knew that the Ministry is the mere definition of corruption. Lies upon lies. Making the public think that it’s all just spiffy now that Voldemort’s gone, and the Ministry will rebuild itself to its previous glory. Draco laughed bitterly to himself at the thought. Rebuild itself? More like become so desperate to have some kind of order to give into bribes, and believe in rumours. At least the Auror Department, run by Potter, is doing some kind of good around this country. Even though all the executive orders come from upstairs. 

“Yes,” Potter said pressing his lips into a thin line. “They wish to send a woman. That is all I can tell you at the current moment.”

Draco tutted patronizingly, “What ever happened to ‘I must not tell lies’? Come on, Potter, and tell me. You know I’ll just find out myself no matter what.” His silvery gaze and smirk silently challenged him.

Wonder-boy sighed deeply, “They wish to send a woman to pose as your fiancée to gather information from the families of the suspected.”

“And to keep an eye on me.”

“Considering your history, there is no doubt that she will keep an eye on you. Even if it isn’t necessary.” 

Draco’s smirk widened, “Ah, so you know who she is?” He marvelled at Potter’s uneasiness. The green-eyed man began to squirm in his seat with a clear expression of mixed feelings etched on his face. 

“I have yet to ask her, but I’m sure I’ll be able to wear her down enough to say yes.” Who exactly does Potter have in mind? Draco thought to himself. He had not been down at the office in close to a year. In fact the only time he had been there for longer than a month was during his training, so he hadn’t much time to mingle. Not that he’d want to anyway. Not that anyone would want to mingle with a Death Eater. 

Of course, he’s had friends and girlfriends since then. Many of them fled to other countries after the war but kept in contact. Others were so horrified when the war was discussed amongst them, that they left too. It’s not that he’d need them anyway; he had his mother and his work. That was enough for him. 

Draco looked at Potter expectedly, “So?”

“So, what? I’m not going to tell you who it is. That’ll take all the fun out of it,” Potter said smugly. Damn Potter and his stupid games. They clinked their glasses and took another swig of their drinks, both hoping to numb their emotions tonight.

“You always did like to pick on me,” he began with mock innocence. “I must be off, Potter. You know how it is. I can’t bear to be seen with you any longer than I have to. I hope to find out who this woman is by the ball. Either way I’ll just make my Malfoy magic and find out for myself. “

The blonde-haired man slid his empty glass across the bar, and wrapped his dark cloak around him to disappear into the rain once more. Becoming yet another faceless figure roaming around in the night. 

He felt something grab his arm and spun around. “You better make sure you’re alive for our next meeting.”

Draco nodded slowly, smiling grimly. He opened his mouth before leaving the disgrace of a tavern, “Always the sentimental one, eh, Potter?” 

And with that he vanished into the night, with out a trace, as if he wasn’t even there. Like a shadow fading into the darkness.


	2. Apparition

She was more than furious with him. She was absolutely livid. Now she was going to the annual Ministry Holiday Ball alone. Which was perhaps better than going with a drunken man mumbling about his troubles. But she was going to try to not think about Ron tonight.

Hermione entered the ballroom, adorned with elegant ice crystals hanging from the pearl white ceiling. Waiters dressed in white and gold circling around the room, and an overflowing table of food sat in the corner. In the center of the room was the dance floor with men and women gliding around in circles, so elegantly.

She smoothed out her black gown and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling slightly self-conscious that she was showing too much of her skin. She decided to ignore it, and hoped to find Harry and Ginny amongst the crowd.

She found it hard, however, to focus because Ron's words had begun to sink in. Of course, for the longest time it had only been a phase. By the time the anniversary of the war came around he would have one too many drinks to help numb the pain, which soon became a habit of his. More and more lately, Hermione had been having a hard time convincing herself that he was only just having a hard time dealing with the aftermaths of the war. More specifically, the death of his brother, Fred.

Hermione understood his grief, for she had lost her parents in the war too. She had gone back to erase their memories and send them off to Australia, but it had been too late. She spent countless hours thinking about everything she could have done to save them. But what good did that do? They were still dead. They didn't die to have them mope around for the rest of their lives. There was a reason for them to be alive and that was for them to get a chance to be happy.

That's what she told Ron. But all she got in return were a few more hurtful words to add to the list. She  _knew_ ; she knew that he didn't mean them. But why did they still get to her?

At last Hermione found her seat next to Harry and Ginny's. They complemented each other nicely, she observed, the two of them sitting next to each other. It greatly reminded Hermione of the picture Harry had showed her of his parents.  _This is life that Harry deserves_ she thought, smiling inwardly.

"'Mione!" A bright red head of hair engulfed her in a tight hug, both women grinning widely. "We've missed you. You never come by the Burrow any more," Ginny released her, with a small frown on her face.

She mustered up a small smile to hide the small pang of pain she felt in her chest, "I know, I've missed you too. But you know how Ron doesn't like to go around there anymore." From the corners of her eye she could see Harry look down at his shoes sadly. Hermione found herself looking down at her own as well.

The redhead's face flushed, "I can't believe him. I had a feeling that he would ditch tonight, but I didn't think he'd actually do it. Just wait until Mum hears about it, she'll have his head." Her eyes diverted to Ginny's fists clenching the emerald fabric of her dress.

Harry cleared his throat softly, "Ginny, I think it would be best if we don't bring up Ron tonight, for all our sakes. We should enjoy tonight." His hands found hers, intertwining them and looked at each other with such love and passion. Hermione found herself with a feeling of emptiness, for this- this is was she and Ron could have had. This is what they could have been. But isn't this what the war did to people? Bring them together and tear them apart.  _I guess I couldn't be so lucky_ she thought to herself.

"If you guys don't mind," Hermione faked a grin. "I'm going to get myself a drink." Just as Hermione made her escape, the annoying voice in her head decided to chime in.

_Planning on developing an addiction too?_ Hermione huffed in frustration. She could do whatever she wanted; she was going to enjoy herself for once.  _Good for you. I mean, all you ever do all day is work. And when you're not working you're scolding Ron. And when you're not doing that you sulk. That's right, the brightest witch her age is sulking over a broken relationship._

She growled inwardly. How could she not sulk over her broken relationship? This is what she wanted since Hogwarts, a relationship with Ron. Is it really so bad that she get upset that when she finally does have a relationship and it doesn't work out? Is it so bad for her to mourn the life they could have had together had Ron not started drinking?

_Yes, it is bad. Welcome to the real world, hun. Things don't always turn out as they're originally planned. All you can do it move on; that's what you did when your parents died, so why can't you do the same thing when your relationship with Ron died?_

She poured herself a hefty serving of firewhiskey, accidentally pouring some on herself in the process. She swore under her breath and began to mutter  _Scourgify_ , until someone had beaten her to it. The spot had vanished from her gown.

Hermione looked up to thank the person, only for her eyes to meet with the familiar grey ones she had remembered from Hogwarts. Fortunately he had not yet recognized her, which gave her time to observe how time had changed him. The white light reflecting off of the crystal chandelier gave the blond-haired man an eerie glow.  _Almost of an apparition_ , she thought to herself. His face had become more gaunt and sunken, his pale locks hanging loosely from his face, and yet it still seemed like every hair was in its place.

"You know, saving me a New Year's kiss would be perfectly acceptable as a thank you," he smirked, with amusement painted all over his face. He began to walk over so he could stand next to her.

"You'll find that you'll accept nothing but a nice whack in the jaw from me, Malfoy," she countered coldly, taking a step away from him. She hadn't seen him since the war. Not that she'd ever  _want_ to see him again. Sure, he stuck out his neck for Harry for few times but that'll never make up for what happened. She could never be like Harry: able to forgive so easily. No, she wouldn't go down without a fight. Did that make her a bad person? She often wondered if it did but she knew for certain that it made her a human.

"Granger?" The blonde's smirk immediately faded into a sneer, crossing his arms over his chest. It was almost as if he purposely tried to make himself look more powerful than she did.

"The one and only," she replied dryly, not in the mood to argue- even if it did take her mind off of Ron. He began to circle her, like a vulture circles its dead prey. Little did this vulture know, that his prey was not dead. No, it was more than alive. It was alive and ready to fight.

"My, my, my, Granger. You clean up nicely. You do seem to miss one thing though. Where's the weasel?"

The sharp sound of her glass crashing onto the floor interrupted their little banter, as Hermione stared at him darkly.  _Reparo_ she thought, focusing on the word, saying it in her head until the cup had gone back to its original state.

"Don't call him that," she growls.

He smirks with satisfaction written all over his face, he has everything he needs. "Taught yourself non-verbal wandless magic? Impressive. Almost as impressive as your temper. Have you no self control, Granger?" Her face grew red as a Weasley's. She knew he was only trying to get her riled up.

Hermione sighed, building up her icy exterior. Deciding not to let him get what he wants this time. "If you would excuse me from this conversation, . I would not want to cause a  _scene_."

She watched as he plastered on his most charming smile, "Of course, Miss Granger. As you wish." He bowed dramatically and disappeared into the crowd. Malfoy just couldn't pass up the opportunity to see her all hot and bothered, but not in a good way. She felt relieved, however, because she assumed that she would not have another encounter with him until the next Ministry ball. Assumed being the key word, she would realize soon enough.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" A concerned voice called out to her. She blinked a few time blankly before noticing that Luna had come up to her. Luna hadn't changed much- she stood there with the everlasting expression of dreaminess on her face and wore a pale yellow gown with big, orange sunflowers cascading down the sides of it.

"Sorry, Luna. I was a bit caught up in my own thoughts there. What were you saying?"

She stroked her wispy blonde hair gently, "I was just asking whether you were enjoying yourself, but it appears that the nargles have gotten to you. I do hope that you're alright."

Hermione smiled at her friend, "I am alright, thank you." There was a pleasant silence between the two as they watched all the couples prance around the ballroom floor.

"Hermione?" Luna began airily, "Are you here alone because Ronald's started drinking again?" Hermione stares at Luna oddly, slightly taken back by the bluntness of the question. She had known Luna to be very perceptive as Harry had mentioned to her many times before, but she didn't realize how much.

Still not wanting to answer it, she replied: "Luna, you're an enigma." She smiles faintly at her, though her face scrunched up in deep thought.  _Perhaps I should be back at the flat with Ron_ Hermione thought. Though their romantic relationship was on the rocks, she was still his best friend through and through. He  _needs_ someone to help him get help.

Just as Hermione began to question whether or not she should have come tonight, a deep silky voice clears their throat. Luna's eyes lit up at the sight of her old classmate as Hermione flashed an icy look his way.

"Oh, Draco. Hermione was just telling me that's I'm an enigma. Isn't that nice?" she trailed off, gazing across the ballroom once more.

The superior air around him had seemed to go away and he managed a small genuine smile, "Quite."

Luna's dreamy gaze floats between Hermione and Malfoy as a grin begins to grow on her face, "Sometimes I don't understand why the two of you don't get along. You have so much in common. It's quite funny really."

Hermione quirks her eyebrow in disbelief. Her and Malfoy have as much in common as a Troll has with Fleur Delacour. What is there to understand? Malfoy has been harassing her for a good portion of her life; surely she can't expect them to get along after something like that.

"I actually came to say goodbye to you Luna. I have an important meeting to attend to, so I really must be going." He holds out his hand, delicate with long fingers as a piano player's.

They shake hands lightly, "I miss our discussions on Crumpled-Horn Snorkack. I never see very much of you anymore- you must come by the Quibbler's headquarters sometime so maybe we can catch some."

His eyes seem to project amusement, "I would love to." Luna beamed, then turned her attention back to the dance floor. His gaze moved to Hermione, who had been watching him since he approached them.

"Good night, Miss Granger."

"Until the next time," she replied dryly, as she gave him a nod good bye. For the second time that night, Malfoy had managed to seamlessly disappear. As if he was a horrible magician whose only good magic trick was to make himself disappear without a trace. If anything, if left Hermione thinking about one thing: Where does Malfoy disappear  _to_?

* * *

_Hello, everyone! I hope last chapter wasn't too short. I suppose you could call it the prologue. Also, it has come to my attention that some things may not be entirely clear; if that's the case, don't hesitate to message me your questions. I love to hear from you! (That does not include hate.)_

_So we finally got to meet Hermione! To be completely honest, I was going to wait a week to post this chapter. But I couldn't wait. I hope that you all enjoyed this early update, and please free to favourite, follow, or review. Any pieces of criticism, or comments about spelling/grammar are appreciated._

_GeekAttack xoxo_


	3. Pretend

The clock had just struck midnight, and a new year had just begun. The guests at the ball slowly but surely emptied out one by one. Harry had almost forgotten about his meeting with Malfoy. After he kissed Ginny goodnight and told her that he had a work meeting and that if he could stay he would, he apparated to their new meeting place: a new muggle dance club.

The harsh neon lights flashing about the dark room, and all the overwhelming sweat and commotion seemed like the perfect place to blend into. It took a while to find the blonde-haired man sipping a weirdly coloured drinking in his hand.

"Hermione Granger? It's so obvious to me now. I really thought she had the potential to do better things than this," he greeted haughtily. The green-eyed man ordered the same drink as Malfoy had, curious as to what it would taste like, and ignored his colleague's rudeness.

"Hello to you too," Harry said dryly, not surprised that Malfoy ended up figuring it out himself yet again. It wasn't a secret that Malfoy got information one way or another and that his methods could be questionable. Things like that didn't- _couldn't_  bother Harry, not anymore. Of course, he'd step in if things went too far but, they did what they had to do under these circumstances.

"But it says in her files," Malfoy droned on. "That the last mission she went on didn't-" Harry narrowed his eyes, daring him to finish the sentence. He knew exactly what happened, which is what drove her to take on a desk job. He knew what he was getting into.

"That's  _enough_ , Malfoy."

"I'm not doubting her abilities, Potter. I got a first hand look at what she's capable of tonight. Wandless, non-verbal magic? Even I have yet to master it myself. She's far more capable than you."

Harry stared at him with disbelief, "It almost seems like you have a little obsession over her." He watched Malfoy expecting him to squirm or divert his eyes, but nothing of the sort happen. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

"Don't flatter her. She's still an unbearable know-it-all and hothead once she opens her big mouth," he adds snidely, his head high in the air. Though Malfoy said otherwise, Harry saw an unfamiliar glint in his eyes. Not of disgust, but of admiration? He shook his head inwardly; no, this was Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. He couldn't possibly have a soft spot for her.

"Alright," Harry said knowingly; he was curious to hear what Malfoy really thought of her. He could hear Malfoy sigh before taking another swig of his unnaturally coloured drink.

"What's going on with her and the weasel? She seemed jumpy when I brought him up, then she clammed up and went all ice bitch on me." Harry swore he could see Malfoy shudder through from the corners of his eye. He smirked to himself at the thought of little Malfoy being scared of the big, bad, 'Mione.

Ignoring the petty use of their childhood nicknames, Harry said with all seriousness, "That is none of your business." He hoped that Malfoy would drop the conversation for even  _he_  hadn't talked to Ron in month now.

As much as he tried to talk to him, or write to him, Ron slowly began to push everyone that brought up memories of Fred away. He greatly understood Ron's pain, as did Hermione. He was wary of pushing Ron too far- Fred's death was a touchy subject that no one dared to linger on longer than they should.

Except for Hermione, which he was grateful for. Even though it saddened him that he got to see less and less of her because of it. Every time he saw her she'd put on a brilliant smile and pretend that everything was okay, but Harry saw the sad gleam in her eyes remain. He had done the same thing: put on a smile and pretend everything was fine even if everything was falling apart _. But isn't that what people_ need _to see?_  Harry wondered.

"She's changed," Malfoy observed, diverting his thoughtful gaze to the glass he softly cradled in his hands.

"So has everyone," Harry countered. "Next meeting: Grimmauld Place. But there is no guarantee that she'll take the case…." He trailed off, beginning to doubt if there was even a slim chance that she'll agree to it.

"There is no doubt that she is more than qualified for it, and being her goody-two-shoes self I'm sure she'll take it for the 'greater good'. As would all you little Gryffies," Malfoy said in complete seriousness, with a subtle teasing undertone in his voice. Harry began to button up his coat and prepare himself to push his way through the crowds.

" _If_ she does agree," Harry stared down at him darkly. "You  _will_ treat her well, or you will hear from me. I trust you Malfoy, but I swear if anything happens to her-"

Malfoy interrupts annoyed, "Yes, yes. I will suffer through wrath of ever so mighty Harry Potter, The Boy-who-lived. Saviour of the whole of wizarding kind!" They exchanged glances to ensure they both understood, and nodded their heads.

"I'm not sure which time I'll be there," Harry said before making his way through the crowds.

"Malfoys don't wait around," Malfoy sneered.

Harry laughed at the utter resemblance between Lucius and Draco, "And Potters don't put up with whiny little babies. We have to be more careful, Malfoy. You can't afford to be affiliated with me in such public places anymore, especially in your position."

He rolled his eyes, "You don't think I know that?" The blonde-haired man subconsciously began to rub the faded blackened skin on his forearm. The image of a scared boy bleeding out on the bathroom floor ran through Harry's mind. That was the first time he had pitied Malfoy.

"I was just making sure- Ferret's don't have the best memory," Harry smirked before leaving an angry Malfoy behind. He walked out to the alley, apparating home to Ginny.

He stretched out his muscles; almost cat like, before peeling of his day clothes and crawling into bed with the woman he so tenderly loved. He sighed tiredly, as he wrapped one arm around Ginny's waist, thinking about what to say to Hermione tomorrow when he told her about the case.

* * *

_Sorry about the short chapter. Don't worry next one will be longer, I promise. Thank you for reading. Feel free to kudos, bookmark, or review this story. I love to hear about what you guys think about it. xoxo_

_GeekAttack_


	4. Recover

Hermione woke up the next morning suffering through the consequences of spending another night on the stingy couch they had in the living room of their flat. Not that she had much sleep anyway for she stayed up thinking of some way to force Ron into getting help. If she couldn't help him, perhaps she could get him to let someone else do it instead. She packed up her stuff into her Mary Poppins bag- as she liked to call it, disappointed at the fact that she couldn't fit her antique book case in there as well.

It didn't matter too much- she was only going to threaten to leave him for a week, unless he got help. If he truly loved her, then he would grant her wish for him to receive help for his drinking so that she wouldn't go.

Placing a quick lightening charm on her luggage, she put them at the door and then decided to wake, and sober up Ron. She watched him groggily lift up his feet, one by one, to make it to the washroom. It almost seemed like he was trekking through a foot high swamp of honey. He opened up the drawer where they kept their potions and pulled out their significantly shortened supply of Hangover Potion. He slipped the mahogany mixture down his throat, like it was a routine for him, like a daily cup of tea.  _Who am I kidding?_ Hermione thought to herself. It's not  _like_  his routine- it  _was_  his routine.

"What is it, 'Mione? It's much too early for this, you know," he spoke as if it was such a chore. He looked around, still looking like he hadn't totally become aware of everything yet. "I'm starving; how come you haven't made breakfast yet?"

Hermione continued to observe her boyfriend in the morning light; it was so rare to see him awake at this time. She couldn't even remember the last time she did. The dark bags under his eyes and the worry lines on his face became more prominent. He almost looked like he had aged 15 years over night.

"It looks like you didn't take my advice again, Ronald. This is  _serious._ This should be taken  _seriously._  Why won't you get help like I've told you, like I  _keep_  on telling you? I can't force you to get help Ronald, but I can certainly try," Hermione's voice was firm, though she was trying very hard not to let it waver. There was a large part of her that felt guilty for harping on Ron. It physically pained her to see someone who meant so much to her waste away like this.

"What are you going on about? Come on, 'Mione. Why don't you make some eggs and toast, and we'll sort this out?"

_"Oh, come on, Mione! If I don't hand this in today I'll get a 'D' in History of Magic for sure. You know Mum will kill me if she see's that on my report," Ron pleaded to her with his best puppy dogface. He leaned closer to her than usual, which made her breath shorten slightly._

_Hermione snorted, "Well, Ronald. If you had listened to me and started working on it a week before, or even the night before, you wouldn't have this problem. I'm not some bint that will respond to your every call." Though she's had a crush on Ron for a few months now, she still couldn't help but get annoyed when he tried to use her like this._

_"Ron," Harry chimes in. "It doesn't look like you'll be able to wear her down today. It's one thing to ask her to review your paper, but to help write it? Now you're just_ asking _for a scolding!" Hermione could hear Harry snickering on the side and she threw him a stern look his way. But she couldn't hold it for very long, before she knew it she was grinning at her best friends in the entire world. She could never stay mad at them._

It's been six years since that conversation, and things have changed. She  _would_  not be a push over anymore. She was Hermione Granger, brightest witch her age. Not someone who would to be easily taken advantage of.

"No, Ronald. I'm not going to 'sort things out' because every time we do that we're back where we started again. You make empty promises and I let you," Hermione's calm exterior began to slowly wear down. She could feel the little fire in her begin to rise. Like she was a train and something was feeding her coal, making her excrete steam.

He didn't seem fazed by her outburst, "'Mione you're too worked up by this. Calm down and we'll talk about this." The sound of his words set off the steam whistle in Hermione's head. Her face flushed red, clenching her teeth in frustration. Why must he be so stubborn?

"I've had  _enough_  of the talking. All we ever do is talk. Then we have an argument and I go to bed angry every night. Why kind of relationship is that? I can't stay here anymore, Ron, unless you decide to get some help," Hermione threatened heatedly. It was Ron's turn for his face to heat up like a tomato. Hermione saw his eyes flash with red, just as she saw many times when he lost his temper.

"You  _can't_  leave because I don't have a problem. So how can I get help for a problem that I don't even have?" Ron burst before murmuring under his breath, trying to calm himself down. "Everything is fine, 'Mione. It's only a phase. You know that's all it is," he continued in a soft, tender voice, almost sounding like the old Ron.

Hermione held a pained expression as she made her way to the door, bags in hand. There he goes again. Rambling on and on about how it's just a phase. That he'll be better soon. He only needs time. She huffs frustratedly; all she ever gave him was time. It's almost seemed like she gave him too much time.

Hermione too, decided to calm herself down, "Look Ron, I love you. As a friend, as a lover. I will always be there for you. But can't you see? Can't you see all the people around you that you're hurting? You haven't seen any of your family in a year, Ron." She began to walk towards him, reaching out to him. Only to be roughly pushed away. Like she was just a random person on the street.

If there was any glimpse of the old Ron then it was already gone, "Stop-stop it. You're staying. It's you who doesn't understand the pain I have to go through. You have your way of coping, and I have mine. You're-you're just like  _them_!" He began to advance towards Hermione, fists clenched and breathing heavily. Never in her life had she been so scared of Ron. Right then and there she almost feared for her life.

"Leave." Hermione was backed out the door as it slammed in her face. She could feel hot tears begin to roll down her face and brim her eyes.

She placed a hand on the door of the flat she once shared with the man she loves. Or perhaps now, the man she loved. She wanted to mourn the memories they had, and the memories they could've had. She wanted to mourn the time they lost with Harry, Ginny, and everyone else at the Burrow. But it was hardly the time for mourning for she had work to do.

She apparated to the Leaky Cauldron to book a room and then made her way to work.

_"Ministry of Magic."_

She entered the dark and busy hall, wiping off the remaining soot on her crisp white blouse and smoothed out her plain black skirt. Still bothered by the row she had with Ron, she told herself repeatedly that it was unprofessional to bring personal matters to work. She repressed the memory of it for now; she had more than enough to worry about. She entered her office in the Aurors-in-Training Department and happily greeted by her secretary.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," she smiled warmly at Hermione, surrounded by stacks of papers and memos floating above her head.

"And to you, Miss Reed. Who do I have this morning?" Hermione slipped back into her icy persona to cover up for the fact that on the inside she was an absolute mess.

Miss Reed looked slightly taken back by her tone, but didn't think too much of it. Skimming through her notepad, she replied, " requests that you meet him in the conference room as soon as possible. Then you only have 6 interviews to conduct for the rest of the day."

 _Harry wishes to meet with me?_  Hermione wondered why he would need to. Though he was the head of the Auror Department now, most information was passed through the people upstairs via memos. She nodded confusedly, picking up her files and slightly rushing to the conference room. She was excited yet hesitant to see her best friend again.

She entered the conference room, one of most depressing rooms in Hermione's opinion. Rarely was it ever full; it had a long table with many empty chairs surrounding it but one, which Harry was seated in. Natural light poured in from the windows, but it was always such a grey and gloomy kind of light. Like the kind you'd see before a storm. And boy, did Hermione have a feeling that there was one brewing today.

"Hello, Hermione," The green-eyed man greeted her with grin, though his eyes told her otherwise. She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Good morning, Harry. What's this about? I must say I'm slightly concerned," she laughed nervously, beginning to fiddle with the hem of her skirt.

"Actually, the reason I asked you here isn't about work. Well, not necessarily," Harry said. Hermione quirked an eyebrow; it's not about work but it kind of is? In what context would that ever make sense?

"Well? Spit it out, Harry. You of all people know I'm a busy woman," Hermione teased and tried to add a convincing laugh, but failing. She watched Harry squirm, why was he so uncomfortable? When has Harry ever been afraid to tell her something?

He slid a pale brown file across the table and immediately she understood, "Harry…" she began, eyeing the dreadful thing warily.

He ruffles his dark hair nervously, "I know you have been slightly hesitant to get back out on the field. But I need you."  _I need you._  My, hasn't it been a long time since the last time she heard that? She cringed inwardly.

She was so embarrassed of that day. Who has heard of one of the best Auror recruits people have seen in ages, perform so terribly in the field? It's funny how things stay with you. And how those things end up holding you back.

_There was so much going on that night. There were spells and curses thrown around, bodies flying to the ground, people screaming. The mission hadn't been exactly going according to plan. And there she was duelling Rockwood in the middle of it._

Stupefy! _Hermione thought as a white light flew out of her wand, stunning her opponent. Hearing an ear-piercing scream, she began to run towards it. Only to find a small, little muggle girl whimpering, crying out for her mother who was lying cold on the ground next to her. A dark figure was looming over her as Hermione was making her way towards to girl._

_"Crucio." The figure held out its wand, laughing, snickering at the sound of the child's screams. Hermione, who had come too late, stood there frozen. She watched as the little girl's body withered like mad, just as she had in the Manor not long ago. For some reason she found that she couldn't move. She couldn't think. She was trapped inside of herself. She fell to her knees, curling up in a ball, forced to hear the little girl's cries that had become blurred with her own._

_She too, had begun to shake with the searing image of a woman with dark piercing eyes and wiry locks in her mind. She cackled, "You're lying, you filthy mudblood, and I know it! What else did you take? What else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!" Over and over. Round and round. It replayed and played. You filthy mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood. Answer me. Answer me. Answer me! CRUCIO!_

_Behind her she could hear a voice shout, "Expelliarmus!" and a large thud. The girl's screaming had stopped, but Hermione's had not._

_"Hermione, Hermione! Get up! We need you-_  I need you _!"_

_Her vision began to blur as tears brimmed her eyes, flooding them. Why couldn't she have done anything? Why couldn't she stop it? She couldn't save the girl._

_She couldn't even save herself._

"Hermione, I need you to go undercover," Harry continues, slicing through her thoughts. "You would have another Auror with you who is already in their rankings, of course. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened to you."

She cleared her throat, "Why?" she asked softly. She could help but wonder why they didn't put anyone else on the case. Perhaps someone who didn't have a break down on their first mission? She stared at him curiously, watching his green eyes plead for her to take the case.

"I know you hate your desk job. And… I know you're having a hard time with Ron." Hermione could feel the air rapidly exit her chest, her pulse increasing by the minute.

She cocked her eyebrow in disbelief, biting her tongue to prevent her eyes from watering, "So you're giving me the case out of pity?"

"Merlin, no!" Harry protested, getting up from his seat looking flustered. "No never, I want you on it because I know what you're capable of and your skills match the case's needs." He ran a hand through his messy hair, "And someone needs to give you the opportunity to do some good around here!" The laughed together, almost like they used to.

"To tell you the truth, Harry," Hermione began with all seriousness. "I'm not so sure. You remember what I was like. That can't happen again. I'll just compromise the mission." She blinked rapidly, being careful to not make eye contact.

"I won't let it," He replied firmly, with as much confidence he could muster.

She sighed dejectedly, "Alright, I'll consider it. But only because you were very close to getting on your knees and begging for it." She flashed him a small smile before asking, "How long will this mission take?"  _What if Ron gets help sooner than I thought and he needs my support?_  Hermione thought worriedly. Then she thought about all the other people who cared about him. Harry, Ginny, George, Molly, Arthur, Charlie, Bill and Fleur, and maybe even Percy for Merlin's sake. He doesn't need her.

"A couple months to a year? I can't exactly brief you on it until you've agreed to the case." Hermione saw Harry smirk triumphantly. No wonder the Sorting Hat was going to place him in Slytherin- he knew her weakness- curiosity, and used it against her.

Hermione thought hard about this.  _Ron should be fine on his own, won't he? And I never did like my job all that much; it never felt like I was making much of a difference. On top of that I'll be doing some actual good, just like Harry said. But…there are so many things that could go wrong. I haven't been in the field in 3 years and I've only been on one mission. And, well, we all know how well that turned out. Though, Harry said that he wouldn't let that happen. I trust Harry with my life. I do miss the thrill of a mission. It reminds me of the adventures Harry, Ron, and I used to have._

"Fine," Hermione groaned. "You've got me. It'll be a rough start but I want to. Now tell me everything." What she realized then, was that she didn't find herself panicking about the mission all that much. Instead, it had been one of the few decisions so far that she felt good about.

* * *

Hey readers! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I love to hear from you, so feel free to leave a review. xoxox

GeekAttack


	5. Hypocrisy

Hermione flipped through the file for the second time. The file had many holes in its information but it was enough to suspect something and investigate further. After the war, the market for dark goods had significantly plummeted- for obvious reasons. However, due to the "new" methods of authority, or perhaps the lack of authority, it's slowly beginning to rise up from the ashes, so to speak. For more than a year now, ex-Death Eaters and pure-blood enthusiasts, whom are not scared off by the war, run a sort of black market. In which they auction and trade illegal spells, potions, books, jewellery, you name it.

Of course there is little physical proof of the trafficking, and it won't be surprising to Hermione that certain parts of the Ministry is also involved in this charade. Because of this, they've gotten enough time to develop their services and protection, making it much more difficult to shut down by randomly raiding the place. Thus, calling for an infiltration of their business and taking them down from the inside out.

"I would like to tell you more but," Harry lowered his voice. "They have eyes everywhere." She nodded, understanding what he was really saying, and took hold of his arm as they apparated to a new location. A location that Hermione immediately recognized.

Hermione was surprised at how 12 Grimmauld Place still managed to look as dusty and stingy as it had always been. With Harry and Ginny moved into Godric's Hollow and Voldemort defeated, there seemed no use for it. At least, until now.

They made their way into the kitchen. Once filled with the heavenly smells of Molly's cooking and the sound of Tonks and Moody bickering, it just seemed so barren. No life to be seen. The grey light seeped through the holes in the curtains as it shined enough light to reveal a figure standing with its back turned to Harry and Hermione.

Without so much of a blink of an eye, Hermione held out her wand, "Show yourself." Harry tried to hold her back, but she just shrugged his arm off. He watched her closely as her eyes grow wide with surprise and then suddenly with anger once the identity of the figure is revealed.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here, Malfoy?" she growled, not letting down her guard. She was taken back at how calm he was, not intimidated by the wand she was so obviously holding in his face.

Malfoy looked at Harry, "She really hasn't changed one bit. She'll do nicely, Potter." He stood there amused at her outburst, with a smirk on his pompous face.

Harry held a pained expression on his face, "If you'd put your wand down and let me explain, 'Mione?" She narrowed her eyes and slipped her wand back into its holster. She huffed, blowing the hair out of her face, and refused to sit down when Harry motioned her to. She felt Malfoy's icy stare bead down on her, like a dagger slowly seeping through the skin.

"Malfoy, if you would just let me explain and refrain from opening your big mouth?" Harry began, shooting Malfoy a pleading look. He rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement, seeming as if they almost- respected each other. Hermione took at double take; she knew they were sworn enemies, and the last time she saw them together they practically had their wands at each other's throats.

"The Ministry isn't as it seems. It hasn't gotten better since the war, if anything it's gotten worse. It isn't a democracy, 'Mione. It's deception. As I'm sure you've already picked up on, there are figures within the Ministry is involved with the trafficking of dark objects and Merlin know how many other things. We can trust the Minister, but he can be…influenced. Which is why I've wiped some of the information of this operation from his mind to keep him from sharing it."

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, shocked that of all people, Harry would do such a thing. Of course, she understood that it was necessary. But this was Harry Potter, the very definition of good. She wasn't very surprised when he told her of all the corruption going on in the Ministry. It was there before the war; there is no doubt that it would be there after. People have become desperate to rebuild their lives. Not matter what the cost.

"As far as we know, Ministry officials involved with trafficking aren't aware of this mission or the information coming out of it. But I won't be surprised if they have eyes and ears all around the Ministry."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, "I still don't know where I fit into the equation?"

Harry laughed bitterly, "The Minister doesn't entirely trust the Auror we currently have and we're running out of time. There's a large possibility that this may grow to be much more than just trafficking, which is why we need more information coming in." Harry had anger in the voice, something she hadn't heard in a while. Hermione understood his anger. After all the fighting they went through to stop this and then to know it really hasn't stopped, it's heart clenching.

"The Minister would like another Auror- you, to go in and pose as a fiancée of a pure-blood enthusiast. Gathering information from the aristocratic society while acting as an old family friend that fled to France before the war started." Harry held a pained expression. He was keeping something from her, she could tell. What could be worse than having to tell someone that our dear old Ministry is a piece of shit and there's possibility that there could be another dark cult forming that could murder thousands?

A voice cleared its throat; Hermione had totally forgotten about Malfoy's presence. Malfoy looked smug, too smug for Hermione. "What Potter has failed to mention is that  _I_  am the Auror you will be engaged to for the next few months."

 _What?_  Hermione was slightly shocked by his bluntness, but she was much more furious than shocked. Malfoy? She managed to keep her composure, but inwardly she was screaming. She was forced to spend the next few months with a man she once despised?  _Once despised? Meaning, past tense?_ Hermione growled, the voice was back again.  _Don't be childish, Hermione. Just think about the people you're protecting. It's a small price to pay…._  She rolled her eyes and decided that she was to have a stern talk with Harry when this was over.

"I know you don't particularly like this but-"

Hermione interrupted Harry, "Nonsense." She plastered on her cool smile, "I'm sure Mr. Malfoy and I will be civil during the course of the mission, isn't that right?"

The fire in her intensified, roaring loudly. She would have loved to hurt Malfoy, punch him in the face to remind him of third year. But that would have meant he won the satisfaction of watching her explode over the fact that she was stuck with him. And she couldn't have that, now could she?

She narrowed her eyes, as she watched Malfoy match her icy stare. He too, plastered on a cold smile, "Of course, Miss Granger."

The green-eye man looked between the two oddly. Hermione guessed he must have been confused with both of their behaviours- anyone who knew both of them would.

"Now, you'll have to learn proper etiquette and other mannerisms before being introduced into their society. Malfoy has the files, so you'll be sure to be briefed yourself on those." There hung an awkward silence between the three of them. Hermione and Malfoy throwing piercing glares at each other, and Harry stuck in the middle, shifting uneasily.

Harry broke the silence, abruptly standing up from his seat, "Well, I believe Hermione and I must head back to the office, people might wonder where we've been. I presume you need to get going too, Malfoy?"

"Yes," Malfoy responded dryly, pressing his lips into a thin line. "Miss Granger: we will meet here tomorrow morning at 5 o'clock sharp. Do not be late." He sneered once more before apparating away without so much of a 'pop'. Hermione was fascinated, yet again, by how he managed disappear so effortlessly. Not even the dust by his feet was disturbed by his presence.

She turned her attention back to Harry, "Seriously, Harry? Really? Since when were you so chummy with Malfoy?" She had to admit that she felt slightly betrayed: Harry and their childhood enemy getting along? Perhaps it was childish, but it didn't mean it bugged her less.

Harry sighed, he looked more tired than usual. Like a fire slowly burning away until it glowed so dim that it almost burnt out. "This case is important to me. We can't afford to be reckless. So who else should I put on it than my two best operatives? And Malfoy isn't the evil snake you make him out to be. I respect him as he respects me. You should learn to do the same." She looked at him right in the eyes; she had to make sure that he was telling the truth. It just didn't sound like the Harry she knew.  _Perhaps the Harry you knew just grew up?_

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I trust you with my life, Harry. But that won't stop me from going with my gut. For you, I'll be civil but I won't respect him until he respects me."

"Thank you," he said sounding relieved, pulling me into a short hug. There was something so familiar and comforting by being in Harry's arms, perhaps it reminded her of the way her father would hold her. What she wouldn't give to bring her parents back just to experience that again.

"Please take care of Ron. I'm not ready to tell you everything yet, but promise me you will. If he looks for me, tell him that I'm staying with my parents. He was never sober enough for me to tell him that they died." Hermione tried hard not to sound bitter, but she had every right to be.

"I will. Thank you for doing this. Keep safe, Hermione. I should be able to visit you so keep the DA coins handy, but if I don't…" His lively eyes grew sad, as if he was remembering the people who used to sit around this table but could no longer.

She squeezed his hand, "Don't worry. And say hi to Ginny for me- I have to head back to the office and sort everything out." Hermione held out her wand and apparated away, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

She re-entered the Ministry, but now she saw it in a different light. She now felt so ignorant before, but there was a part of her that wished that she stayed that way. That she would be happier that way. Happy and Ignorant.

"A note came for you; I placed it on your desk," Miss Reed said, before watching her boss clam up into her office yet again.

On her beautifully carved, mahogany desk laid a pristine piece of parchment that read:

_They have eyes everywhere. Do not forget that._

_-DM_

Hermione tore the note in two, throwing it into the fire. She slumped in her chair and it was at that moment when she realized that things were never going to be normal again, from this point forward. Picking up her quill, she began her work for the day like usual. Though she couldn't shake the off putting feeling she got when the image of cold grey eyes popped up in her head.

* * *

" _Where_  is she?"

Draco paced the kitchen floor, as he waited for his little know-it-all. It was only 5:02 and he was already annoyed with her. He specifically told her 5 sharp. What was so hard to understand about that?

He couldn't lie to himself; it didn't help that the place itself made him a bit on edge. Though Potter had said this place was Unplottable, he always had the habit of never lingering around a place more than once. Call it paranoia, but his new  _friends_  haven't found out about these meetings. Which meant that he was still alive, and that Potter and him would be safe for now.

 _Thud._ Granger walked out of the fireplace, with her bags in hand. 5:03.

"You're late," he said grumpily, twirling his wand between his fingers. He eyed her up and down, disgusted; she wore a Shakespeare t-shirt with ratty old jeans and a pair of high-tops. Of course, she had to wear the most muggle clothes she owns in spite of him. It was so different from his style; unlike her he actually had some finesse and an appreciation for high-end clothing.

She glanced at her watch, "By only three minutes. Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." Ignoring her little cheap shot at him, he observed her standing there in her normal muggle clothes. It made Draco notice how  _much_  she had changed since Hogwarts.

Of course, he had seen her at the ball and- Draco gagged inwardly- hit on her, not knowing who she was. He already knew that she had grown taller- she was only about a few inches below him. Her hair had gotten significantly less bushy, but nowhere near straight or wavy. She had filled out in certain areas, as many women do. Granger was...decent.

But he hadn't noticed how worn out she looked, it was written all over her face. It was in her posture too, even in her voice. It was so much different from the upbeat powerhouse he had met at Hogwarts, and he even got a glimpse of it at the ball.  _What happened to the old Hermione Granger?_  Draco wondered to himself.

"Looks like someone raided a homeless person's closet this morning," he retorted, hoping to get her rattled. Instead of the angry outburst he had expected, she smirked.

"I only dress like this for you," she said, her voice dripping with sickly sweet syrup. Her honey brown eyes that bore into his almost seemed like their trying to melt the ice between them. Draco built up his defenses; he was convinced that she was only trying to get to him, which she was. He roughly grabbed her wrist, apparating them away to Malfoy Manor.

Malfoy Manor, the one place where he felt completely safe. Though it harboured horrific memories of his father, and of the acts of him and his compatriots performed while staying here, he knew without a doubt no one could get into here without his permission. He made sure of that. Malfoy Manor wasn't his childhood home- it was his fortress.

He felt her yank her wrist away from him, and cradle it in her arms. "Don't touch me like that," she seethed. She looked shaken up, as if his touch triggered something. What that something was, Draco didn't know.

He huffed and decided to push her buttons, hoping to be lucky enough to find the old Granger inside of there, "In case you haven't noticed, no place but here is completely safe. We had to leave there before being compromised. A simple thank you would suffice." He sent her the old Malfoy sneer, she should be grateful for his actions. She should obey and listen to him- he  _was_ housing her in his home.  _Not bloody likely!_ He imagined she would say.

"A thank you? For what? Saving us from being 'compromised'? Grimmauld Place is one of the safest places I know. You're insane, Malfoy. Mad!"

He glared at her, "I've had enough of your protesting, Granger. You're too prejudiced to understand my reasoning." That seemed to do the trick- he already saw the fury behind her eyes, the outburst of passion she had repressed.

"Oh  _I'm_ prejudice?" She snorted. "Says the person who used to call me a mudblo-"

" _Don't."_

Something went off in Draco's head, like a switch or an emergency button. Like some kind of siren blaring like mad in his head. He wasn't sure whether it was the memories associated with the word or whether the sentence reminded him of the fact that no matter what he did, he'll still be looked at as a Death Eater.

"Why?" she asked, almost like she was spitting out venom. "Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood. That's what I am it. Isn't it? Isn't it," she challenged him further, taunting him. Did she realize how much she sounded like his deranged aunt just then? If she had, she wouldn't have dared to utter those words.

Draco could not hold his composure any longer; how could she? How could she make such a judgement of his character without knowing anything about him?  _Let's not forget you've done the same thing._ That's different, he thought to himself. He no longer believed in blood prejudices. He's changed, unlike her. He wasn't even sure he believed in it in the first place. How curious is it, that ones parents have such a strong way of influencing their child? Like father, like son, wasn't it?

"That's  _enough_ , Granger," he said in his most Snape-like voice. As much as he would love to slap some sense into her-just as she would like to do the same to him- but she wished that he dared not touch her. And Draco would never hear the end of it from Potter if he had. He just needed to escape- he could not handle their little banter any longer. At first it was amusing, but somehow it always goes too far.

"Granger: you say that you are not prejudice. But if you just listen to yourself, you may want to reconsider your answer."

 _That should give her something to think about,_ Draco thought to himself before going back to his study to catch up with his  _business partners._ He locked himself in, hoping that he wouldn't have the pleasure of meeting with Granger again tonight.

* * *

Hi there readers! I don't think this is one of my best chapters, but I'm glad to get it over with. I found it hard to capture both Draco's and Hermione's divided feelings, but also show how they carry themselves differently in front of people and each other. I hope you enjoyed this chapter despite it being a bit all over the place. Feel free to follow, favourite, or review! Thank you to everyone who review my past chapters, I appreciate it!

GeekAttack


	6. Disguise

There were many emotions running through Hermione's mind after that. Confusion, anger, doubt, and fear, the list goes on. She was stumped- she could not figure out Malfoy. Everything she thought she knew about him, she now questioned.

Why had he asked her not to say the word mudblood? What gave him the right to ask that? He's used it enough times. And she was not prejudice! She just wasn't. She had first hand experience of what it's like to be judged by ones cover. He was just lying to get to her, that's all it is.

She sighed, finally her mind was clear and she was finally aware of where she was. Malfoy Manor. She felt shivers down her spine just thinking about it. Though it was associated with all things dark, she could not deny its beauty.

Most likely built in the Victorian era, she marveled at its high ceilings of carved marble. Crystal and gold chandeliers hang down above her, as did intricate crown moulding. The pure size of the place was already overwhelming. Somewhere deep inside of her desperately wish that is was so big that she would never have to see that room again. Or even better, but more unlikely, that the burned it to the ground.

Hermione heard a pair of heels click against the smooth, glossy floors. A woman with long, pale blonde hair stood at the door. From a distance she didn't look a year older than Hermione. She smoothed out her black, long sleeved dress and approached her with a warm smile.

"I don't think we've ever officially met, Miss Granger. I'm Narcissa Malfoy, however, I do prefer to be called a Black now. How do you do?" she held a regal sort of air around her, but also seemed to radiate a certain motherly vibe. This was unusual to Hermione, for she had known her to be snotty and pretentious.

She stood in silence, unsure of what to say. Luckily Narcissa picked up on her uncomfort, "Before you say anything, I just wanted to…apologize. I've never gotten the chance to say that I'm sorry. I apologize for standing by and watching you get tortured. I'm sorry that my family and I caused you, your friends, and your family so much pain. I-"

Hermione gingerly placed a hand on top of Narcissa's. Her ice queen exterior slowly peeled away. Hermione watched as the woman in front of her shed some tears, pouring out the guilt she had been harbouring for years. She could see it in the woman's tired blue eyes, in the worry lines in her face, she could hear it in her voice- she really did regret it all.

Still unsure whether she was ready to forgive the woman just yet, Hermione replied, "I know you are. It's alright."

The woman quickly wiped away all evidence of her salty tears from her face, even though her eyes remained slightly red. She regained her composure, clearing her throat; "I will show you to your room, now."

The two women began to walk down the long corridor, adorned with furniture, which were elegant beyond belief. Narcissa stopped at a large white door, letting Hermione turn the knob. She stood there in awe. Warm sunlight poured through the windows, making the pearly white furniture glimmer and shine. Most of the room was white, which surprised her, with pale green accents on the pillows and blankets. Small vases of tulips sat on her dresser along with a small empty bookcase in the corner.

"I hope that it's to your liking," Narcissa said, interrupting Hermione's pleasant trance.

"It is," she replied, her honey brown eyes still looking around the room intently. Narcissa walked through the doorway and began to open the doors to her closet, revealing the large repertories of clothing.

"Draco told me of your arrival a couple days ago, I've known for a while that an Auror was to stay with us. For the purposes of the mission, I've bought a whole closet of new clothes. He also told me that you have a knack for reading, so I bought this accordingly," she motioned to the bookcase Hermione had been drooling over previously. At last Hermione had joined her at the closet, feeling the rich fabrics between her fingertips. Surely, she didn't need all this clothing to go undercover.

"But that is just for your personal novels. I'll have the house elves show you the library." Hermione's eye lit up with excitement, and then frowned. House elves? She began to grow wary.  _You're here to be an aristocrat- it's high time you start acting like one._ It doesn't mean she should turn her head if they happen to miss treat them.  _Perhaps I'll pay them a visit tonight_ , Hermione thought.

"Lastly, your lessons start at 8 o'clock each morning. Do not be late. Classes start tomorrow. I must be going to my morning tea, but should you need anything else your house elf, Mindy, will fetch you what you need. All right, dear?" she looked at Hermione expectedly.

She couldn't help but ask something of Narcissa. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she blurted out bluntly, her cheeks flushes slightly. Though Narcissa had been known to be quite cold in the past, she almost reminded her of an upper class and more regal version of her mother.

Narcissa gave her a small smile; "Perhaps, in a way, I'm trying to make it up to you. But the way I see it, you're to represent the Malfoy family for the next few months. It would do me some good to get to know you, would it not?" Her lips curled into a knowing smile, and with that she exited the room with the utmost grace.

Hermione let herself fall into her new fluffy bed, sinking into the sea of cover. There, she came up with two conclusions. One; Narcissa Malfoy was a mysterious woman. Two: that perhaps, Malfoy was right. She was too, prejudice.

* * *

She hadn't seen Malfoy in two days.

She's already had to suffer through two lessons. She loved school but not this kind of schooling. Her first lesson was posture. It seemed easy enough; all you have to do it keep your back straight. Merlin, was she wrong about that. She must keep perfect posture 24/7- even when eating and lounging. Narcissa even charmed her to seat to keep her from slumping her back. She would have gladly taken torture over this.

Her second lesson was eating. She already knew how to eat for Merlin's sake! But in Narcissa's perspective it was totally wrong and must be relearned. Would you imagine that? Relearning how to eat. Ridiculous.

Despite her discomfort and annoyance with the lessons, she knew they would save her when she has to blend in with the pack. She kept a journal including the notes she was taking on proper etiquette should she forget something.

Hermione was also silently brooding over the fact that Malfoy was right. She was prejudice, but in a different way. Not once had she given any Slytherin purebloods a chance to prove that they were decent people. She automatically put Death Eaters into the evil pile without considering the circumstances of their situation.

She was a big fat hypocrite, but so was he! Both of our prejudices over blood. His with muggleborns and mine with purebloods. She vowed that she would try not to let past experiences blind her, though she found it difficult.

She sat at the large wooden dining table, feeling quite lonely eating all by herself. It reminded her a lot of the conference room back at the Ministry. She lifted up her fork and held it daintily, like Narcissa had taught her the day before. She munched on the delicious crêpes the elves had made for her.

She had visited them, as she promised that she would, only to find that they were being treated well. It was surprising to Hermione- in spit of her vow, that the elves were ordered to wear proper uniforms and could take time off. Not that they wanted to anyway- they seemed so devoted to the Malfoy family.

Just as she was about to cut up another piece of her breakfast she was politely interrupted.

"Miss Granger?" Narcissa stood at the doorframe, entering as if she were floating on air.  _How,_  Hermione wondered,  _did she manage to make everything seem so graceful and effortless?_ Soon she, too, would have to learn to act like that. She groaned inwardly- this was slightly more work that she had originally thought.

"Yes, Miss Black?" she answered, dabbing her napkin on her mouth and then delicately folding it back onto her lap.

Narcissa looked at her sternly, "Now, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Cissy or even Narcissa?" Her voice almost sounded dangerously close to Molly just then.

"Until you start calling me Hermione." Narcissa took at seat next to hers, laying out her schedule for the day. Calling out for her elf, she soon received a nice steaming hot cup of tea in front of her. "And what are we learning today?"

"Today," she looked quite giddy. "We dress you."

"Dress me?" Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "I think the way I dress is satisfactory, thank you very much."

She shook her head similarly to the way a child would, "I don't mean to offend you, dear. It's just that you won't fit in. If I could stand by you in the morning and choose what you wear every day, I would. But I can't. You must learn to look like a lady." Hermione nodded reluctantly, she watched Narcissa's pale blue eyes glow with excitement.

Over the past few days, Hermione had grown a soft spot for the woman. Of course, she hadn't learned much about her. But she supposed it was irrelevant anyway because she quite liked the new Narcissa Black. That was another thing she wondered about- why she really changed her name back to Black. Hermione had many theories, but didn't know for certain. But she did know that there was something strange about her- something that she was hiding from Hermione. What did she know?

"Narcissa?"

She looked up from her schedule, "Yes, Hermione?"

"Where is Malfoy?" Hermione could not resist asking. Harry had said the night before she left that she would receive the files on the suspects, but since her arrival she's gotten zilch. She did get him quite angered the last time she saw him, but it was a different kind of anger this time around. Before he only got annoyed and disgusted by her words, but it almost seemed…it almost seemed like he was only hurt by them.  _Isn't that what you intented to do?_ Yes! No. Yes but not like that. She only wanted to get him back for being a hypocrite and prove a point. But maybe she crossed the line. Either way, she still should have been briefed.  _We don't bring personal matters to work_ Hermione thought as if she were convincing herself that it justified her actions.

She had tried to snoop around the manor to get the files herself, but every time she found a new door she couldn't bring herself to open it. What if it was  _that_ room? It had been six years and she still wasn't ready to see that room again.  _How pathetic,_  she thought to herself.  _She was scared of a bloody room, for Merlin's sake!_

"Oh, Draco? Probably locked up in his study again or off doing business. He has to keep up with appearances too, you know," she said, sounding a bit distant. Hermione saw her eyes drop down to her lap, and a small frown appear on her face. What was she thinking about? Hermione could not yet make sense of it all. But she decided to make sure she would in due time.

After she had finished her breakfast, the two women headed back to Hermione's room. There they found a witch who rushed towards Narcissa with kisses. The woman was tall with straight black locks that fell to her waist; she was impeccably dressed with a measuring tape hanging from her neck.

"Hermione, this is my good friend, Guilliette. She's my most trusted tailor and designer. I leave you in good hands. I'll be back in an hour," Narcissa chimed happily, before leaving Hermione and Guillette in an awkward silence.

"Enchanté, 'ermione," she greet, holding out her tiny hands.

Hermione shook it lightly, "Hello." She couldn't lie: she was slightly dreading this day. There was a reason why she hadn't worn any of her new clothes. They were much too fancy to wear on an everyday basis. She liked the clothes she wore.

Guillette began to circle around Hermione with a scrutinizing stare. Her face was scrunched up in concentration, eyeing her body up and down. Hermione felt very uncomfortable under her gaze.

"''Zis will not do. You are such pretty woman," Guilliette scrunched up Hermione's shirt so that it fit tightly around her body, revealing her lean, boy-like figure. "Why not show ze body zat you 'ave off?" The woman began to measure Hermione's arm length, legs, chest, and waist. She growled inwardly. It was if she was some kind of rag doll or even worse, an animal to be weighed and measured, then slaughtered and put up for sale!

"Why would I want to show it off? It's not like I want people to be staring at me," Hermione protested. She dressed for herself and only for herself. Was it so hard to believe that didn't dress up to impress people? She couldn't care less what others thought of her- as long as she was wearing something that she felt comfortable in and was appropriate. Hermione thought she was the plain kind of pretty, which was why she showed off her inquisitive mind.

Guillette tutted, "'ermione. What you 'ave yet to learn iz zat as long as you're beautiful, can bear children, and can keep your mouth shut- zey won't suspect you. If not, well, let's 'ope we don't find your pretty face all cut up and bruised or thrown in a river, yes?"

Her words were harsh, but Hermione wasn't too bothered by her use of language. She wasn't surprised that she would have to act like that, though she was utterly disgusted by it. Quite plainly, the women were just trophy wives whose sole purpose was to pop out an heir. It just seemed so old fashioned- it was 2005 for Merlin's sake. Women were to  _not only_  be seen but to be heard! They were people not pets! Nevertheless, there was nothing Hermione could do about it. She was to become another one of their trophies on the wall.

Hermione remained silent for the rest of the day, shaking her head in agreement ever once in a while when Guillette asked for her opinion. She must have showed Hermione hundreds of clothes of different fabrics, styles, colours, but none of which drew her attention away from her frustration. She had to find a way to help these women, but how?

Surely, they must not like being treated as if they were an object? She was unsure for she had already realized assuming things had only made things worse. Look at S.P.E.W.- house elves were practically low paid slaves but they enjoyed their work. They didn't want to be helped. Perhaps the women were happy.  _But_ how _could they-urrrghh!_  Her mind was torn; she refused to think of this any more for the sake of her sanity and patience.

She jotted down a few notes on rare moments where actually was listening to the things Guillette was talking about. She didn't think that today's lesson was all that important anyway. The majority of the clothes were dresses, so all she really had to do was pick one and match it with shoes. It wasn't rocket science. The only thing she couldn't do was wear the same thing twice within a span of two weeks- she found that most peculiar, but agreed to it none the less.

 _Crack!_  Her house elf, Mindy, suddenly appeared with an urgency in her voice, "Master Draco has requested your presence in the salon, Missus Granger."  _So he finally decided to come out from his hiding spot_  she thought, shaking her head.

She smiled warmly at Mindy, "Yes, thank you, Mindy. Can you take me there?" The elf nodded in reply, holding out its small hand for Hermione to grasp.

"Wait a minute, 'ermione. You can't go see Draco like zat. 'aven't you learned anything today?" Guillette scolded, with an accusatory finger.

"I refuse to dress up for Malfoy," she said stubbornly.

Guillette gave her a stern look, her beady eyes staring down at her. Hermione sighed dejectedly- she had to get used to dressing up anyway. It couldn't hurt to start today. She walked over to her closet, roughly yanking a plum coloured dress out randomly and stomped into the bathroom to change.

Hermione stepped out, "Happy?"

"Yes," the woman said smugly. "Now run along, you wouldn't want to keep 'im waiting!" That was the final straw for the woman- Hermione had lost all patience for her. She groaned aggravatedly before taking Mindy's hand to be transported to the salon. Herimone couldn't wait to tell the little ferret off again, and perhaps, maybe, apologize.

* * *

Draco began to pace around the room of the salon floor, making soft little clicking sounds when his heel hit the hardwood flooring. He couldn't believe that at the age of 23 his mother still managed to persuade him to do whatever she wanted. Now, after two Granger-free days, he has to see her stupid, smart-ass little self. He had better things to do, and better people to see. None of which concerned his mother when she practically demanded that he see her immediately.

He sat back down on the sofa, picking up a letter from the side table, written to him from his boss _._  Not Harry, his other boss. He liked to think of Harry more as his sidekick than his supervisor.

_Malfoy,_

_You have proved yourself as a useful asset to us. Meeting at the usual spot and usual time. Speak of this to no one._

_G.M._

Short, sweet, and vague just as all his letters were. Draco knew he had earned the trust, for he had spent a year trying to do that. The Malfoys were already a trusted family, though he and his father had a few hiccups with the Dark Lord. He was slightly surprised at how long it took them to accept him; it only showed their ability to be patient and vigilant . They weren't desperate and they had experience with traitors amongst their rankings. They weren't like Voldemort, gathering large groups of numbers of who ever they could find that was pure-blooded or highly talented. They held a close circle of well-trusted compatriots, and Draco hoped that tonight they decided that he was to join them.

 _Crack!_  A loud thud made Draco immediately drop the letter, stumbling to stash it away in his coat pockets. His gaze met with Granger's, he had a strong feeling that she was angered with him. But wasn't she always? At least her feelings towards him were very much reciprocated.

"Thank you, Mindy. Now leave," he commanded, now tearing away from Granger's furious stare.

"Yes, Master," the house elf whimpered, hers eye growing wider making them look more bug-eyed than usual.  _Crack!_

"Must you always be so rude to your house elves? Just because you're angered at me doesn't give you the right to be horrible to them," she gritted her teeth, walking towards him with an accusatory finger. The purple dress she wore, swished behind her. Granger knew how to clean up nicely, when she makes the effort to.

"Obviously you haven't taken up much thought about your prejudices. Pity. Otherwise you'd realize that I wasn't mistreating them, I was just being firm. They aren't here to make fucking friendship bracelets with me Granger, they  _work_  for me."

You didn't have to be a mind reader to see that Draco was frustrated with her petty arguments about house elf rights. She just over-reacts and tries to help when help isn't needed. Why couldn't she just give him a bloody break?

After that Granger fell silent for a moment, diverting her gaze to the ground. "Why did you call me in here anyway, Malfoy? What do you want?" She placed her hands on her hips, staring down at him expectantly.

"Potter said I had to brief you, and since I don't want him on my ass about it- that's what I'm doing. It appears that you haven't begun creating an alias, so I suppose we'll have to do that as well."

She arched her brow, "Well, if I was aware that I had to be creating my own alias, I would have. I had assumed that you and Harry had already taken the liberty of doing that." He watched her as she took a seat on the sofa across from him, only the side table sitting in between them. He took out a single folder from his briefcase and passed it to Granger.

"Granger, I thought you've already learned that assuming things only makes an ass-"

"Out of you and me. It's nice to see your comebacks have become more creative over the years," she said dryly. He sensed that she was more relaxed- she was still pissed, he could tell, but he felt her become more comfortable in his presence. Whether on not he liked that, he wasn't sure. Did he  _want_  her to be intimidated by him? Not that she ever would be, of course, she always stood her ground even when there wasn't one to stand on.

He glared at her, "Well at least I've been doing my homework."

She frowned, looking very offended, "Excuse me but-"

"Let's not waste both of our precious time, shall we?" he began, cutting her off. He took joy in watching her fume in silence; it was something he always found amusing. The way she'd cross her arms, huffing and pouting, her faces flushing red. "Now, in the file I've just passed to you, you'll find the inventory list of all the items being exchanged for the past year and who has been exchanging them."

He handed her another file, much thicker than the other one and had multiple dividers. "This file contains all the intel on all our leading suspects and their associates. I'd hardly deem that it is necessary for me to go through these files with you; I should think you're smart enough to do it on your own."

She scowled at him, but nodded. "I was also thinking of writing up a report on the knowledge your mother can give me regarding the suspect's families and other gossip." Only Granger would give herself more work than she's given. It must be a gift. Or maybe she has an addiction. Workaholics Anonymous.

"Whatever you seem fit. Potter has already created a very basic backstory for you. Rose Garrott. Come from a quiet and old, English wizarding family. Moved to France from the age of 11. Homeschooled. Close friends with my family. Returned 5 years ago, after the war."

"Nothing else?"

"If you had been carving your alias out, there would be."

She growled at him, then gazed off in deep thought, "How about this? A year after the war, you invited my family and I to stay for a week. We began to grow closer, got engaged a week ago but no one knew because we wanted it to be a surprise."

He sighed, not caring all that much about it anyway, "Alright. The rest will be your responsibility. And lastly: to take care of your appearance. We can't have you looking like the little miss know-it-all from the Golden Trio, now can we?"

He motioned for her to get up, and began to think. Now for some real fun. How could he make Granger look like a cold stone bitch?  _It's not like it'd take much_  he thought to himself, not entirely sure whether he truly meant it. She had to look like someone he'd look good with. But she couldn't stand out- the last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves. Most of all, she couldn't look like Hermione Granger. She had to become Rose Garrott.

She crossed her arm annoyed, which amused Draco more than it should. He held his wand out and began to transfigure her body, watching Granger disappear before his eyes. Though the expression of discontent remained on her face, everything else had changed.

Her hair, which used to fall to her shoulders, had grown just above her waist in silky blonde locks that had a slight curl to them. The colour wasn't nearly as pale as his hair for it was a rich and darker blonde. He had made her skin, which had been more olive-toned and tan, fair and delicate. He had kept her body shape the same- except making her a couple inches shorter, for he knew that Granger was most recognizable by her face and hair. Her face had become more angular, her cheekbones more prominent and a sharper nose. He had kept her doe-like eyes- some part of him couldn't part with them, but had made them a pale green for her safety. And his safety too, of course.

He watched her curiously marvel at her new body. He couldn't tell if she liked it or not, or was indifferent. She just stood there in shock, running her hands through her new hair. He smirked at her new look, but inwardly frowned. Did  _he_  like it? He did make it, so he should, shouldn't he? He strangely found himself wondering if he liked the old Granger better.  _Ha! Like that's likely,_ he thought to himself. Suddenly, a tapping noise came from the window. It was most likely something from one of his colleagues. He strode over to collect the letter.

"Run off, Granger. I haven't got time for you right now. We're done here."

Her attention turned back on him, "No. We aren't, Malfoy. If we're to be a team-"

"No one said we were a team."

She narrowed her eyes, "If we're to be  _coworkers_  you can't be disappearing for two days without contact. Harry seems to trust you enough, but I don't." His eyes flashed with red, she liked to push his buttons, didn't she? She was yet another person who couldn't put his Death Eater past behind them.

"Are you questioning my loyalty?" he seethed.

She picked up her files from the side table, calmly, "No, what I'm saying is that how can I trust you, if you choose to disclose information from me? I refuse to be kept in the dark."

 _So this is what this is all about,_ Draco thought. He had got all worked up for nothing. What a waste. But he had to admit that he was slightly concerned that Granger had become suspicious. He expected her to, but it was important that they kept  _it_  from her. Especially if  _it_  ended up being a hoax and they were just over-reacted. Potter and him agreed on it. He had to come up with a way to steer her away from learning anything about their suspicions, and the extra research he had been doing.

"Believe me when I say this: you are in no way being kept in the dark. You know what you have to know to do your job and let's leave it at that."

"Malfoy," she glared daggers at him. "In case you haven't noticed, that's not how a partnership works."

"It's a good thing that we're not partners then."

He observed that her display of her emotions had become less obvious than in her previous body. Her face hadn't been as red as it had been, much to his disappointment. But she was much more scary looking with her new face when she glared at him.

"Listen here, ferret. You don't want to play nice? Fine. I'll figure things out on my own accord. And when I do, you bet I'll play just as nice as you did." With that she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Draco deeply inhaled before pouring himself a drink. He sat down comfortably on the sofa, swirling around the amber liquid in his glass. He stared at the fire, crackling away and slowly dying down. He un-crumpled the letter he had scrunched up in his hand when Granger opened her big mouth.

_Remember what we agreed on. She can't know about it until we're certain. It's for her safety. Give her the mirror I gave you, I'm sure she needs someone to talk to. Don't be a dick and watch over her._

_And don't forget to stay alive,_

_H._

So it was Potter, who had written him not one of his  _colleagues_. What a coincidence that he had been thinking about the same thing Potter had written about in the letter just minutes before.

Draco tossed the letter into the fire, hearing the fire quietly roar, consuming the paper. He walked back to his study to his safe where he kept the shitty two-way mirror Potter had lent him in cases of emergency. He assumed that Potter missed his little Granger and so did the Weasel. Though when he brought him up at the ball, he got the vibe that they weren't on good terms.

"Mindy."  _Crack!_  The bug-eye elf was back, still whimpering, he observed.

"Yes, Master Draco?"

"Take this to Miss Granger," he held out the mirror, and then remembered. "And also, inform the other staff that Miss Granger is to be called Miss Garrott now. It is a very grave situation and I will not hesitate to fire anyone who calls her anything different, understood? From here on out, none of you have ever met a Miss Granger. Only a Miss Rose Garrott. Soon to be Malfoy."

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed this longer chapter. I've been behind on writing lately, so I will be posting longer and less frequent updates. Please fav, follow, or review this chapter. I love to hear your feedback!

Geek Attack xoxox


	7. Intrigue

"You sound too intelligent."

It was her fourth day at the Manor since she had arrived, and slowly there became more and more things that she strongly disliked about it. One of those things included her lessons.

"I can't help it. I  _am_ intelligent." Hermione quickly rolled her eyes, hoping not to be caught by Narcissa. She didn't want to be scolded by her any more today. Narcissa was a lovely woman; there were no doubts about it. But she could also be very cunning and manipulative, which was a skill that she found herself admiring at times. At others it just annoyed her.

Narcissa tutted, "Hermione. Do you  _want_  to be compromised? You  _will_  draw attention to yourself if you talk to them like that, because they don't take to people who sound like they're smarter than they are."

Today they had been practicing small talk, which hadn't exactly been her strong suit. She wasn't one to neither control nor filter what words come out of her mouth and when they come out. She was, however, very perceptive. And right now, she could tell that Narcissa was getting fed up with this too.

"Okay," Hermione sighed. "I want to try it again."

"Alright. Miss Garrott, Draco tells me that you were homeschooled. What was that like?"

"Well, it was quite lonely as you could imagine. My parent hired a tutor who taught me for 8 hours of the day. It was an enlightening experience, but I do wish I had been able to attend Hogwarts, with Draco."

Hermione had become accustomed to lying with ease. It was a mandatory skill she forced herself to develop. Not only for cases, but also covering up for Ron. She had to sound convincing enough for even the Weasleys to believe her. She couldn't lie about Ron's drinking issues- they were his family, but they didn't need to know about how bad it was for her too. Don't get her wrong though- he never hit her. She could never let him do such a thing. But it was the little things like roughly grabbing at her wrists, or trying to get inside her head. She had loved him too much to ruin his reputation amongst his family and friends.

She had put up with his behaviour before, but now she was stronger. She was so tired of it. She was  _sick_  of it. Ron was her friend and boyfriend, and if he wanted to keep their relationship that way he would have stopped. At the same time she felt so guilty for thinking that. She didn't want to lose him. Especially after all the effort they went through to try to keep it together.

"Good," Narcissa began, turning Hermione's attention back to the lesson. "I think that's enough for today. I have some business to take care of. I will see you at dinner."

She nodded, watching the woman smile at her before whisking out of the room. After picking up her notes from the table, Hermione began to walk back to her bedroom. She had desperately wanted to snoop around, but resisted for numerous reasons. Instead, she wanted to explore the grounds for she had an excellent view of their gardens from her balcony.

After wrapping a velvety robe around herself, she stepped outside to meet the cool wintery air. It wisped around her as if the wind was whispering against her skin. A thin layer of fluffy snows covered everything, masking the deteriorating plants that had been so luscious during the spring and summer. With everything lightly dusted with snows, the gardens reminded Hermione more and more of the gardens in The Beauty and the Beast. To her, it looked as if everything was frozen in time.

She walked through a passageway in the trees, listening to the snow crunch beneath her feet. She didn't know where the path was going to take her or what she was going to find. A secret hideaway? A tree house? Faeries? The environment around her refreshed her imagination. How could anyone see this place, and  _not_  be inspired?

Much to her disappointment, she reached the end of the path and saw that it led out to a quidditch field. It hadn't been as large as the one at Hogwarts nor did it have the large wooden stands. It was an open field with three large hoops about 600 feet apart from the other set of hoops. There was a wooden shed that held brooms and other supplies, she suspected, and a small seating area off to the side. It hadn't looked like it had been used recently, so she took a seat in the stands. She was glad that she hadn't brought her book along because she wouldn't have appreciated the view nearly as much.

In front of her was mostly a white field but slightly over it you could catch a glimpse of the town in the distance. Grey puffs of smoke rose from their chimneys, and dim yellow lights began to glow for it was going to be dark soon.

Suddenly, Hermione could her the sound of snow crunching outside the sheltered stands. She whipped out her wand and waited for the person to show themselves. A man appeared from behind the protecting fabric. The man's hair hadn't entirely greyed just yet and his face wrinkled up even more when he smiled. His attire was surprising to her, for he wasn't wearing expensive black clothing she had expected. Instead he wore a brown tweed coat, a plain pair of trousers, and bulky boots on his feet.

"Hello," Hermione greet politely, still keeping the tight hold on her wand, which she stashed close to the fabric of her dress. She watched the man squint his eyes at her; perhaps he was trying to figure out whether he recognized her.

He chuckled, "I'm sorry, Miss. I didn't mean to startle you. You must be the boy Malfoy's new fling. I'm Benedict Everett at your service. I take care of the grounds here at Malfoy Manor."

She smiled coolly in return, placing her wand back into its holster, "I'm actually his new fiancée, Rose Garrott, How do you do?" She held out her hand as the man pressed his cold lips against her skin.

"Apologies, Miss Garrott. It's just that he's had so many women here before, that I tend to lose track. I'm an old man, you see."

Hermione watched him crinkle his eyes. So Malfoy takes all his fake fiancée's here? And here she thought she was special! She smirked inwardly, while still holding her icy exterior. She could tell the man was just trying to test her, but she had plans of her own.

"Yes, Draco has told me. I won't be surprised if I'm not the last woman he does. But he treats me right, and that's all I could ever ask for, don't you think Mr. Everett?"

He flashed her a look of innocence, though he obviously looked satisfactory with her answer, "Yes, of course Miss Garrott. I didn't mean to offend you in anyway. I was wondering if you would like to be escorted back into the house? I wouldn't want someone was pretty as you wandering around alone a night."

"That's very kind of you," she said, pressing her lips into a thin line. She stepped out from the stands and took his arm. She had to admit that she felt uncomfortable in the man's presence. A part of her trusted him and another part was wary of him.

"So, Mr. Everett. How long have you been working for the Malfoys?" She began to use the small talk skills she was taught today. Always ask people questions about themselves. People love talking about themselves.

"Too long, my dear," he began. "I knew Draco since he was just a babe."

She could help but laugh softly. Malfoy as a baby? She just couldn't imagine it. Mr. Intimidating Tough Guy walking around in his diaper and asking Narcissa to read him another bedtime story.

"I'm sure Draco made an adorable baby," she snickered inwardly.

He shook his head, scoffing, "No, he was right brat. Always picking out the flowers I had just planted and digging out the soil, claiming he was just trying to search for gold." She smirked, now she had something she could use against Malfoy. Who knew being his fiancée would be so entertaining?

"I don't find that hard to believe. He loves to cause trouble."

Benedict looked solemn for a moment and frowned. "His father set him straight though. After that I didn't see too much of him, except when he was down at the pitch, of course."

Lucius Malfoy. Hermione had totally forgotten about him. And perhaps that was a good thing. He had tried to get away after Voldemort crumpled into a pile, but eventually the Ministry got a hold of him and his family. Draco and Narcissa got off, except for some of their possessions being taken away. Harry defended them in front of the Wizengamot, just as they did for him during the war.

But Lucius had killed innocent people, unlike his family. He was sent to Azkaban, and died about a year and a half ago. She wondered if Narcissa ever loved him. She suspected that she did love him, or had loved him once.

She attempted to change the subject to lighten the mood, "Yes, I heard Draco was quite the Seeker."

His eyes suddenly lit up, " _Quite_  the Seeker? He was brilliant! Only second to that Potter boy at his school. But really, Draco earned the position more. I've watched him practice for hours on end. He used to come down to the pitch everyday, but now I haven't seen him there in ages."

Hermione grew even more interested in their conversation. She had always cheered for Harry- she  _was_  in Gryffindor and would never choose Slytherin above them. But Harry's talent was natural; Malfoy had put blood, sweat, and tears into his but was always beaten by him. She found herself understanding Malfoy's jealousy of Harry. She had felt the same way when he had beat her in Potions in sixth year, at least until she found out that he was just following a copy of Snape's book.

Finally, the two of them had reached the Manor, "This is where I leave you, Miss Garrott. I hope to have the pleasure of meeting you again."

He kissed her hand, feeling his grey stubble scratch the skin. "As do I, Mr. Everett. Good night," she said, looking back at the old man before opening the door. She waved, and stepped inside, welcomed with the warm air caressing her skin.

She found herself very intrigued by the old man. At first he had spoken to her as if he were testing her. Was he always this hostile when meeting with new people at the Manor? But as they began to walk back, he had seemed to open up to her about Malfoy' childhood. Things that Malfoy probably didn't want her to know about, much to her excitement. He had also mentioned Lucius with a certain bitterness in his voice. She supposed he would for Lucius had been his boss. And he wasn't the nicest guy. But she sensed it was something more than that. And the way Benedict spoke of Malfoy was, as a father would speak of his son.

One question boiled away in her mind for the rest of the evening:  _Who was Benedict Everett?_

* * *

Draco lifted his hood as he entered the abandoned underground parking lot, their usual meeting place. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room before becoming face to face with a group of six men, dressed in rich black robes. He greeted them with a nod of his head; his eyes met the ones of his boss, Graham Montague. Now a less bulky and slightly less hairy man, Montague towered over Draco. His dark, piercing stare looked as if they were challenging him.

"Do you know  _why_  you were summoned here, Malfoy?" his deep voice bounced off the crumbling concrete walls as profusely dim lights began to flicker madly.

"Are you guys are finally going to let me be a part of your ethnic dance troupe? I really must say: I'm honoured," he replied with a smirk. He knew they found his wit amusing; it was one of the reasons he was still alive.

"Always the smart-ass, aren't you, Malfoy?" a thinner man behind Montague, snarled, like he was a dog trying to bark while in its muzzle. It was quite pathetic, really.

Montague raised a hand, "That is enough of your commentary, Warrington. Now, Malfoy, we believe you are ready to join us. You may be a facetious pretty boy, but you're clever and you've got connections. We could use someone like you." Draco felt a chill run down his back and let go of the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"Whatever you need, Montague. So long as I'm the one that gets to see Potter's face when we're unleashed."

The lights continued to flicker as the men imprinted an image on Malfoy's chest, burning the skin as a sign of ownership. It was as if he were selling his soul to devil, again. The blonde-haired man pushed through the excruciating pain of the ritual; he could not look weak amongst his new leader. Though inwardly, he whimpered and screamed in agony. He watched the six men nod in agreement before apparating off, one by one.

Draco lifted his shirt to stare at his newly tattooed body. There, staining his porcelain skin was a snake wrapped around the blood red rose. It looked as if it was suffocating it, devouring it, consuming it. Draco soon felt disgusted as his eyes moved to read the words that had been burnt into his skin underneath.

_Toujour Pur._ _Apporter la mort aux impuretés._

Always pure. Bring death to the impurities.

* * *

Draco heard a soft knock on his study door. He wasn't in the mood to talk to people today. He just wasn't. He simply didn't have the energy or the patience for it. The ritual last night had been extremely draining. They had obviously used some kind of very strong dark magic on him, though he still wasn't sure what it was exactly.

"What do you want?" he demanded, hearing the door creak open, following a pair of footsteps.

"That is no way to speak to your mother, Draco."

He looked up from his paperwork to find Narcissa stand in front of him, not looking very impressed with his behavior. Draco had noticed that his mother had seemed much happier than usual, in spite of his current situation. He found that she had taken a liking to Granger, much to his dismay, and very much enjoyed treating her like a daughter she never had. He knew that his mother had always wanted a daughter, despite his father's wishes, so he was glad that her spirits were lifted while his own seemed to vanish.

"Sorry, mother," he said sheepishly, kissing her cheek before motioning for her to sit down as he took his seat across from her.

"Now, I've come to discuss your engagement ball. I strongly believe Hermione is ready to be introduced."

 _Hermione?_  Draco thought. What has gotten into his mother? He had to admit that though he liked seeing her happy, he had also felt slightly betrayed. He was terrified at the thought of his own mother taking Granger's side. Preposterous.

"Surely, we're not in need of one. You know how I don't like people-" He was cut off by is mother's tutting.

"Ba-ba-ba! It is only necessary that you have one, Draco. Whether it is real or not. Besides, it would give Hermione a chance to begin getting to know everyone, would it not?" He saw his mother flash him her best guilt trip look. And then soon found himself agreeing to it.

"Alright," he sighed in defeat. "But I will be putting extremely strong protection spells around the Manor and I do not want to find guests meddling with them." His mother nearly jumped for joy, they hadn't had a ball in ages. Not since his father- he stopped himself in his tracks. He would not think of any memories of him. He didn't deserve it.

"Excellent," Narcissa said, making her way to the door. Just she was about to leave she added, "And Draco?"

"Yes?" he groaned, trying to place a happy smile on his face.

"Whether you like it or not, you and Hermione  _are_  partners and will be living in this household together acting as if you are hopelessly in love. I would highly suggest that you stop hiding yourself in your study, and possibly try to get to know her." His mother gently closed the door after that, leaving Draco to think in silence.

He hated it, but Narcissa was right. They needed to get used to being a couple, or at the least try and be civil with one another. Draco cringed at the thought of that. He had to say that they could make a very good team; he had to applaud Potter for that. They were both very intelligent, fast learners, and could be manipulative. If they put their minds together, they would be extremely powerful. Of course, he'd never say that out loud.

"Mindy?"  _Crack!_

"Yes, Master Draco?"

"Would you please tell me where Miss Garrott is currently?"

"Yes, Master. She's at the quidditch pitch, Master."

 _The quidditch pitch?_  "Thank you for your help. That will be all."

Why is Granger at the quidditch pitch? He knew she wasn't much of a flyer, though Weasel and Wonder Boy were both on the Gryffindor team. He decided to find out for himself as he put on his cloak and headed towards the field.

He hadn't been there in ages. In fact he hadn't even played quidditch since his Auror training finished. Every once in a while he'd take his broom out for a spin when the nights were clear, but he hadn't found much time for that anymore.

It was a crisp evening, the sun had not yet gone down and the wind was more refreshing than harsh. Draco had missed this. The outdoors. The sun. The moon. The stars. This past year he found himself so lost in his work. (Which wasn't entirely bad for it was crucial that he be dedicated to it.) But he had realized that he hadn't gotten a chance to breathe. Or a chance to be able to pretend for a moment that all his obligations and responsibilities had simply vanished, and he could just observe life passing by.

Finally, he had reached the pitch, which flooded his mind with old memories. He found himself smiling nostalgically at them. He saw two pairs of footprints that led to the stands. Who was Granger with? Was she being held captive? He clenched his fist, holding his grip on his wand tighter. Until, he turned around to find her talking avidly to a familiar old man. Did his eyes deceive him? Could it be?

The man squinted at him, like he always did with everyone, "Draco, my boy, is that you?" The old nutter hadn't always had the sharpest memory, but it was the many things he liked about him. It really was him.

"Benny, good man. Long time, no see," he said happily, shaking hands with the man. Then turned to Granger, or should he say Rose, brushing his lips against her cheek. "Hello, love," he greeted her.

He watched her smile coldly, though she flushed in surprise that he had made actual physical contact with her, "Hello. Mr. Everett and I were just discussing you."

He arched his eyebrow, interestedly, "Really?" Draco tried hard to keep his gaze on his old friend, whom he hadn't seen in months, but found himself gazing intently at Granger, who had sounded like a totally different person completely.

"Yes, yes. I was telling Miss Garrott here about your first time on a broom," the old man chuckled. He loved to embarrass him at any chance he got. He should have known.

"Oh," Draco said, sounding surprised. "Well as much as I'd like you to tell my fiancée all my embarrassing moments in excruciating detail, I'm afraid I must steal her away from you."

He saw a mischievous glint in Granger's eye, "Oh come on, Draco. He had only just started to tell it as you were coming in. Do finish the story, Mr. Everett."

Draco sent a pleading look at Benny, begging him not to, "I'm sorry, Miss. Perhaps another day…duty calls." Benny shooed her off with a flick of his hand before getting up himself.

Benny gave him a quick hug before leaving, whispering in his ear: "She's a keeper this one. I can tell." Draco's eyes widened, while the old man left him there in shock. The man truly _has_  gone nutters. He spotted a dark blonde head of hair, waiting for him at the entrance of the pathway back to the Manor. She was dressed in a light blue today that made her blend in nicely with the snow, as opposed to his all black attire.

She scowled, "What is it, Malfoy? I thought I knew everything I needed to know." Her voice dripped of bitterness; of course she'd still be upset.

"Well," he began with a sneer on his face. "It looks as though we'll have to spend quite a lot of time together, as much as neither of us want to. And it has come to my attention that we should get used to being-" he felt as though he were going to gag. "-Being a couple together."

She glared at him, but he could tell that she was thinking about it. "Alright," she huffed. "But it is only for the sake of the mission,  _Malfoy_."

"Wouldn't have it any other way,  _Granger_. I mean who in their right mind would want to be seen as a couple with you?" He smirked, waiting for her reaction.

"But I have some rules to apply, if we're to live together," he opened his mouth to protest before being shot down by an icy stare. It was his Manor and he was in charge! " _And_  I don't  _care_  that we're living in  _your_  house."

Fine. She wanted to make the rules, huh? Well he had some of his own. "It's only fair that I get to make some of these rules too."

Granger rolled her eyes before pulling out a small notebook with a bunch of scribbles in it, and flipped to an empty page. She grabbed a quill and began to write  _Malfoy Manor Code of Conduct_  at the top.

"Rule number one: no rude, or derogatory comments about Harry, Ron, or any of the other Weasleys."

"Rule number two:" he added. "No comments about my previous experience as a ferret." She heard her snort from the side. She just loved to remind him of it, didn't she? It was a horrific memory that has scarred him forever.

"Rule number three: no disappearing for a day without notice."

"Rule number four: no questions about my father or any comments comparing me to my father."

"Rule number five: no questions or comments about my relationship with Ron, or my love life."

"Rule number six: no insults associated with my involvement with Death Eaters."

Granger strangely fell silent, and stopped her furious writing. He felt an odd tension between them, and wondered what she was thinking. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, boring them into his. It was strange that they didn't look like her real eyes, but still felt like they were.

"Malfoy…" she trailed off, almost sounding vulnerable. He had not heard Granger sound vulnerable, except for….

"What is it, Granger?" he demanded, harshly. He suddenly got angry with himself as he did every time he was reminded of that memory. Standing there, watching her wither and scream on the floor of  _his_ drawing room. Her blood stained his slate. Why didn't he do anything? He was such a coward. Such a bloody  _coward_.

She ignored his tone, "I just wanted to apologize for thinking of you so wrongly. You're right. I know nothing about you except for the type of things you say to me. You were still a bully to me and infuriate me, but you don't deserve to be called evil. I'm sorry."

She caught him off guard. For the second time today she surprised him. Granger admitting that she was wrong? Not in a million year did he think that she would say such a thing. But had suddenly felt the guilt he had repressed for all these years come down on him. It was as if an avalanche had engulfed him in snow.

He had thought about apologizing too, not just now but many times before this. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe because it was too painful for him, still, after all these years. Or maybe it was because he was still such a damn coward.

He broke away from their intense gaze, diverting his stare to the ground. They just kept on walking down the path in silence, but it hadn't been as awkward as before. It was almost…nice.

"I never wanted to be one of them, you know," he said softly, as they started to see the manor through the trees.

"I know," she said breathily, turning away from him before closing her notebook and rushing inside. She had left him out in the cold, wondering what had just happened between the two of them.

* * *

Hermione woke up with the morning sun warming her skin, the golden light creeping through the thin white curtains. She had decided that she would try to contact Harry today with the mirror he had lent to her.  _Didn't Malfoy lend it to you?_  It was obvious to Hermione that Harry had _told_ Malfoy to lend it to her, so he shouldn't have the credit. She pushed the thick duvet off of her and pulled out the mirror. It could hardly be called a mirror anymore for it was only a broken fragment. Either way she was thankful for it.

"Harry?" she whispered, so that the elves couldn't hear that she was awake. "Harry!" she whisper-yelled again. She heard a thud and some ruffling before she could see a glimpse of Harry. His hair was standing straight up and his pajamas all wrinkled out, and of course he wouldn't be Harry if his glasses weren't disheveled.

"Hermione?" he said, probably squinting because he had just gotten up. "Oh, 'Mione. Hey. How are you doing?"

She laughed at his morning grogginess, "Everything is good. Except for Malfoy- he's always a right prat. Narcissa has been lovely to me, which was surprising."

He chuckled, "That's good. Is everything going accordingly?" Harry added more seriously.

He looked more stressed out than usual, Hermione thought, or maybe it was just her eyes deceiving her. She knew a job down at the Auror Department was a hectic one, especially when you're the head of it. Even her job, which wasn't directly in their department but related to it, the Auror-in-Training Department, was a very busy one. At least Harry enjoyed his job to a certain extent, while Hermione, though she didn't mind her job  _that_ much, often found herself bored.

"Yes," she answered. "Narcissa has been telling me that she's planning an engagement ball for this week."

"Already?"

Hermione gave him a look of offence, "Harry! Do you dare doubt me? Yes, already. She says that I'm ready to be introduced. Also, I've been reviewing the files Malfoy gave me. There isn't much."

Harry gave her a grim smile, "I know. But it's all we have."

"It's alright, it just makes this job harder than I originally thought," Hermione admitted, averting her gaze to the window. She heard a ruffling and Ginny's voice calling Harry back. She had missed Ginny. Not only for her spunky personality, but because she was excellent at comforting her when she desperately needed to be. Though Hermione wouldn't outwardly admit it but she had begun to feel a little homesick.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, mirroring his father's old habit, "I should really go. Keep doing what you're doing and keep me updated. Stay safe."

There was some part of her that wanted to tell him about what happened between her and Malfoy yesterday evening before he left. But decided against it, "You too. Bye Harry," she replied, tucking away her fragment of the mirror away.

Hermione was still mortified. She couldn't believe she had apologized to Malfoy. It was so…so…  _impulsive_  of her. Did Malfoy and her have a moment?  _Merlin, Hermione. You sound like a teenager. You're 23 years old!_ The voice in her head was totally right. She was overthinking it and now that she finally got the apology off her chest, she could go back to insulting Malfoy and not feeling guilty for it.

She had vowed not to think about it, but it was so hard! He had told her that her never wanted to be one of them. She didn't find it all that surprising: he was sixteen, heavily influential, and scared. Of course it's no excuse for harassing muggle-borns and "blood traitors". But it was a pretty good one when you're forced to join a group as dangerous as the Death Eaters were.

Moreover, she could stop staring at the list of rules they had created.  _Rule number four: no questions about Lucius Malfoy or comments comparing Draco Malfoy to Lucius Malfoy._ She was already wondering about Narcissa and Lucius, and now she was just wondering about the whole Malfoy family all together. Why didn't they speak of Lucius? Not once had they brought him up or mentioned him. Then, out of the blue, Malfoy makes the rule that they're not allowed to discuss him.

Did it bother her knowing that they couldn't discuss it amongst themselves? No. Did she still want to know the truth about their family? Merlin, yes. Behind Narcissa's voice and even Malfoy's voice she could tell that they were holding back information from her. Hermione sighed, she really needed to clear her head.

Hermione decided that today was a perfect day for a walk of the grounds before lessons started. Maybe she could even hear the end of baby Malfoy's first flight from Benedict today. She picked out a crisp white dress shirt that she tucked into a floral patterned skirt. It just didn't feel like a dress day.

She walked down the hallway, happily, and into the dining room where she found, much to her surprise, Malfoy reading the Daily Prophet with tea. He hadn't eaten a meal in this room for days. And now he suddenly pops up out of nowhere?

"I thought you were smart enough to know that the Prophet only spews out lies," she commented, before taking her seat and pouring herself a cup of tea.

He slowly lowered his paper, revealing his annoying little smirk, "Wasn't that the name of your petty house elf charity? Spew?"

"It was S.P.E.W., thank you very much. Still doesn't explain why you're reading it," she said defensively, before ordering her breakfast: toast and eggs. Why wouldn't anyone let her forget the charity she made in her  _fourth_  year? That was ages ago!

"My apologies," he said dryly. "The Prophet may be a load of shit, but it's the only paper we got. At least it's still accurate at reporting deaths."

Hermione hummed in reply, watching his eyes scan the paper stoically. She wondered if the only emotions Malfoy could display were discomfort, annoyance, anger, fake content, and absolute dullness.

"I spoke to Harry this morning," she said, splitting the eerie silence between the two of them. She couldn't handle it. She hated small talk, but she hated uncomfortable silences even more. She tried not to sound as if what she was saying was forced, even though it was, but failed at it.

"And?" he replied not looking up from his paper. Or just not looking interested at all. Typical Malfoy.

"I told him that Narcissa was holding the engagement ball this week."

"Good."

The rest of their breakfast was spent in silence, Hermione was all out of ideas and he didn't make much of an effort to reply. She munched on the rest of her meal and the last of her tea before heading out on her walk. It had gotten very awkward between the two, very quickly. They both were most likely thinking about how oddly things ended last night, she suspected, and couldn't pay much attention to what they were saying. Things had changed for the both of them and she didn't think either of them knew if it was the good kind of change or bad.

"Wait," he said, just as she reached the doorframe. "What are you doing?"

She rolled her eyes, turning around to face him, "Avoiding small talk." She fled the room, and began to briskly walk down the hallway.

Over the past few days Hermione had been questioning a lot of things. She changed her opinion on a lot of things too. Suddenly these thoughts had begun to overwhelm her. They angered her, saddened her, and most of all confused her. She was put in a new environment, had to learn new ways of living, and not to mention she looked nothing like herself. Had it all become too much? Had this all been just a big mistake?

Right now the only thing Hermione wanted more than anything was to stay with her parents. Sure, it sounded childish to say that you want to go home to your "mommy and daddy". But they were her escape and her guides. After staying with them, her troubled head would always clear and she would know exactly what to do. Now she didn't have that and she didn't know what to do.

A loud crackle of a fire snapped Hermione out of her thoughts and she had become aware of where she was. She had become so distracted that she hadn't even realized that she had wandered off into a new room. And what a gorgeous room it was.

The sunlight poured into the room in shades blue, for there were 3 large stain glass windows that went from floor to ceiling. Each had a design on them: one with a waterfall, the other with a flower, and the last with an open book. Long, rich, navy blue curtains hung from them, with silver embroidery stitched around the edges. On a wall, in the middle of the room, lay a silver fireplace engraved with swords and snakes that slithered around the front. Above the fireplace was a portrait of a girl.

She didn't look a day over 11 and although she was young, she had a very sculpted face. Her hair was done in a simple French braid, which she twirled around her finger as she danced around in her painting. Her eyes were a striking grey- light and silvery. She continued to hop around until she caught a glimpse of Hermione stand there, gawking at her.

"What are you doing here?" the girl said quite rudely, with her hands on her hips.

"I'm sorry," Hermione answered. "I've wandered in here by accident." The girl looked very familiar to her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She very clearly looked like a Malfoy but she wasn't sure which one.

"Fine, then. You've had your fun. Now leave," the girl whined. Now Hermione was sure that she was a Malfoy, for her whining sounded exactly like a boy she had punched before. Surely she couldn't be a daughter, for the Malfoys haven't had a daughter in centuries, let alone more than one heir.

"I would if I knew the way. Can you tell me how to get back to the dining hall?"

The girl rolled her eyes, "Who am I, your tour guide?" Hermione had to admit that she was both amused and annoyed by this girl at the same time. Despite her childish remarks, she still seemed very poised and sophisticated for her age.

Hermione shot her a look, and the little girl groaned in defeat, "Walk down the hall to your left, then take a right at the music room. If you don't know your way around from there, then you are far more daft than I originally thought."

"Thank you," Hermione gave her a small smile before she exited the room. The girl looked taken back by her kindness, for she must have expected Hermione to be rude back to her. Hermione wanted very much to be rude back, but she was far too curious to find out more about this girl to ruin the opportunity to make a good impression. She was determined to do some research into finding out the identity of this girl, for it was much more entertaining than groveling about her lessons.

As she walked down the eerie and empty halls of the manor, she wondered what other mysteries the manor beheld.

* * *

Hi there, readers! I'm a bit behind on updating my fic on this site, so I keep on forgetting. I'm really sorry about that, and I'm trying to do better. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to fav, follow, or review this story/chapter! I loving hearing from you guys, it makes my day.

GeekAttack xoxox


	8. Initiate

Harry sat a booth this time, staring into his sake as he waited impatiently for Malfoy. They had decided on a Japanese place tonight for both he and Malfoy needed a break from all the stingy bars and sweaty clubs. He looked around the room at the people around him speaking in hushed tones, or was it because the booths were so high that sound became more muted? He couldn't tell. He called for the waiter again to order some adame beans. If he was going to wait on Malfoy then he wasn't going to wait on an empty stomach.

Malfoy wasn't usually this late, unless something happened to him. But Harry couldn't risk sending him a patronus or a letter- it would only make things worse. The only thing he could do was hope that Malfoy didn't end up half way in a sewer by now. He knew Malfoy could handle himself, he saw it with his own eyes. But Harry couldn't help but get concerned that Malfoy was getting himself in too deep. That maybe Harry got him too tangled in their web to escape.

A blurred black figure entered, and slipped into his booth. He lifted his hood revealing Malfoy distraught face, his eyes were bloodshot probably from the lack of sleep and his hair gelled back. He must have just come back from a meeting with his superiors, Harry suspected. Malfoy didn't speak right away, instead he grunted and huffed.

"No call, no letter, nothing! We were worried sick about you. Draco Malfoy, what do you have to say for yourself?" Harry mocked him, mimicking the stereotypical parent, waggling his finger in his face.

"Sorry,  _mother,_ " he scowled, smacking Harry's finger away. "I met up with them again tonight. Lost track of time." Harry ordered another sake for him- Merlin knew he needed it. He looked downright awful.

"No matter," Harry said, getting more serious. "Update?" He scanned the restaurant: they only had limited cameras, one at the door and the other at the cashier. Not to mention that this was far from any wizarding town in the area. The information should be safe here.

"They accepted me yesterday, and then today they had me organize their family's old records and books. Mostly just some shit about this old guy."

Harry was scared of this happening. Not being able to understand what they're next move was or if there even was a next move. But he knew they were smart. They would be prepared for anything so when they chose to reveal themselves to the world they would unleash terror, and do it flawlessly.

"Why would reorganizing their records be relevant to them?" Harry prodded further.

Malfoy shrugged, and crossed his arms, "No clue. I'm just the puppy, that's why they have me do their dirty work. The little assholes."

"That's understandable. They don't fully trust you yet with their plans, so they have you doing paperwork until you're ready."

He scoffed, "I'm not daft, Potter. I know that already. I'm just not seeing how this is going to help us."

Harry started to run through the facts in his head. On the surface they're a group of people who run a trafficking business. Why does this help the unnamed group? In order to get profit off of it to build up their resources, to network with buyers and sellers, and to get intel on all the magical items that pass through. And underneath, they're some kind of cult. If what they put on Malfoy's chest is true, their goal was to "purify" the world.

But none of this related much to their situation, other than the fact that they seriously needed to do some spring-cleaning. Well, he did mention something about an old guy. They could investigate him further.

"What was the name of the old guy you mentioned earlier?"

"Harold Greyling. Apparently he was one of the top guys in medical sciences at the time, before he went mad which ended his career. I was organizing his journals and papers, but they were spelled shut. I wasn't strong enough to break it."

Harry nodded, in deep thought, "I'll do some more research on him and tell you what I find. But there's not guarantee that this is a lead."

Malfoy smirked, "I'm surprised, Potter. I thought you would've taken my little confession of weakness as an opportunity to insult me," he gasped mockingly, in realization, "You  _do_  have a soft spot for me."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You don't need me to tell you how lame you are.  _You_  said it yourself. Now back to being serious-like the mature adults that we are: I know I've told you before, but I mean it. This information stays between  _us_ , and only us."

He knew that if Hermione found out that he was keeping secrets from her, she would have his head. There was no doubt about it. But if she found out that this trafficking op was bigger than it seemed, he feared that she would want to drop the case. Or worse, want to get involved. Furthermore, if she was found out about and it was revealed that she was Hermione Granger. The unnamed group would not hesitate to use her for information by any means necessary, and then when they were done with her, throw her away. She had gone through that once already in her life, and that was one too many. It was better this way.

"Yeah, I got it Potter. But I'm warning you: this decision might bite you in the back," Malfoy said.

"I know."

"No," Malfoy continued in a harsh and demanding tone. "You may think that you know what's right for her, but ultimately  _she_ 's the one that decides that."

Harry smiled, amusedly, "You  _do_ have a soft spot for her."

He rolled his eyes at Harry's words, "I just know what happens when you feel like you have no choice in the matter. She doesn't even know that there is a choice to be made."

Harry had thought Malfoy was just pissing around, but he now decided otherwise. It almost sounded like Malfoy was becoming a bit possessive over Hermione, which above all confused him. He though nothing of it, except the fact that it really weirded him out. He had a strong point. But Harry had already considered that. Her safety was his priority, she stood by him and protected him and this is how he was a repaying her. If it involved lying to her, he would make that sacrifice.

"I  _know_ , Malfoy. But my decision is final," he said firmly, catching Malfoy pouting for a moment then going right back to his usual expression of discontent.

"Alright."

"How is she doing?"

"Good."

Harry watched Malfoy's gaze divert to his glass, "How is she  _really_  doing? I know I talked to her this morning it's just that…" He found himself trailing off, unsure of what to say after that.

Growing up with Hermione, he knew she wasn't that great at hiding her emotions. Nor was he very good at reading them at times. But since Hogwarts, she got particularly good at masking them and he had gotten considerably worse at reading them. He'd always hear something in her voice, he noticed sometimes, that made him suspect something else was going on. And he heard that again today. He frowned inwardly; it saddened him to learn that they were growing distant in a way. They spoke every other day, but still, it felt distant.

"How would  _I_  know, Potter? In case you haven't noticed, I'm busy doing work for you instead of spending every fucking minute of every fucking day asking how she's doing," Malfoy burst out, abruptly. Harry didn't know why Malfoy had gotten so defensive all of a sudden, but decided not to pry any further, as much as he'd like to. It was so fun to him all hot and bothered, it's better than grumpy, prissy, Malfoy.

He held his hands up, "Whoa, sorry I brought it up. I just thought maybe  _you_  picked up something because, you know, being a detective is part of your job description?"

"Not in the mood, Potter."

"Alright," Harry said, leaving it at that. He respected Malfoy's decision just as he respected his. He should honour that.

Malfoy downed his drink and began to get up, "If there isn't anything else, I need to head back to start writing a bloody guest list for the bloody ball my mother is making us host."

Harry tried to muffle, his snickering but it was much more fun doing it in his face, "Aren't you a mama's boy?"

"Shut it," Malfoy snarled, his lips curving into a sneer. He roughly grabbed his cloak, swinging it around himself.

He placed a few muggle bills onto the table, and began to make his exit but not before Harry squeezed in another "Mama's boy!" just to tick him off.

He chuckled to himself. Malfoy was one odd bloke. One second he's cool and the other he's hot. Either today was one of those days, or Harry just hadn't noticed it until today. Not only that but Malfoy isn't exactly what you'd call an open person. He held his cards close, and was very particular of whom he showed them to and which card he showed.

But Harry didn't need Malfoy to be open with him. They didn't need to talk about their feelings, or their family history. He knew exactly what he needed to know: Malfoy's intentions are good and he's one to stick to his word. That was enough for him.

Whether or not it was enough for Hermione, who knows?

* * *

Draco laid awake that night, thinking, for numerous reasons. The most obvious one being the mystery behind this unnamed group he had joined. It's only human for him to fear what they might become and also to fear something that he knew nothing about. But he had trusted that they would be punished. He found himself constantly touching the sensitive area where they had burned the skin off every time any kind of trigger came up. Sometimes three times a day, other times every hour.

One of the triggers being Mudblood. Which was the second thing he couldn't stop thinking about. Granger. When Draco grew up with her, she was prescribed to be hated by him. She was smarter, but had lesser blood than him. Then, when he had watched her be tortured, he began to doubt the nature of his hatred towards her. When he had seen her at the ball, he was still determined to hate her for she was a smart-ass who couldn't keep her mouth shut. And now…

And now he wasn't so sure he had her all figured out. Once she apologized to him, he allowed himself to open up to her, if only for a split second. She had responded tenderly- she didn't give him pity, nor did she make any sarcastic comments. He felt like at that moment she understood him perfectly, and he had caught a glimpse of her raw compassion. In a way, he admired her.

No, no. This is Granger. He simply couldn't. They were enemies and always will be enemies. Just because he had acknowledged that she had certain respectable skills and attributes did not mean that he  _admired_  her. He couldn't, he just couldn't.

Draco groaned, tossing and turning in his bed.  _But why didn't the thoughts of her go away?_  He whined to himself. It was then that he decided it was a waste of his time trying to sleep. His head was about to explode. Wrapping himself in a robe, he made his way downstairs for a cup of cocoa. It had always seemed to sooth him when he couldn't sleep, even as a child. He called his elf to fetch him a mug, and then walked down the hall to the salon.

He opened the thick wooden door and felt a warm gust of air hit his body. The fire had been up and lively, but who was awake at this hour to tend to it? Draco quickly armed himself with a wand, noticing a figure in his favourite green chair. It wasn't until he had gotten close enough to realize that it was Granger curled up in a ball, hands still clutching a book.  _That's Granger for you. I bet she'd die clutching a book in her hands too,_  Draco thought to himself. He almost smiled amusedly at how small she looked in his large, green, menacing chair. He still hadn't really gotten used to her new appearance, but when he looked at her, he still saw the real Granger: a prissy little prude.

Draco took a seat on the sofa instead, staring into the roaring fire. Suddenly he heard a loud crack, causing Granger to begin to stir.

"Here is your cocoa, Master," the little house elf whispered, holding out a large mug with three mini marshmallows on top. Just the way he liked it.

"Thank you," he replied. "But don't apparate out or you'll wake our guest. Go on now, off you go." he waved his hand in a shooing manner and began to take out the case files. It couldn't hurt to give them another glance.

"What are you doing up?" Hermione sat up in the chair, tugging the blanket around her tighter.

"You ruined the surprise: I was making you a special friendship bracelet," he answered dryly, watching her hair fly away due to static. "What does it  _look_  like I'm doing?"

"I know  _what_ you're doing, Malfoy. I'm not daft as much as you deny it. I want to know why," she shot back, both of them falling quiet for a moment. Draco stared into the fire. She sighed, "Fine, I don't care. I was just trying to spark up a conversation, you should at least make an effort to be civilized."

"I am being civilized, Granger. Unlike you, I actually want to close this case rather than wasting my time conversing with you."

Draco was surprised she hadn't burst out and yelled at him, instead she kept her voice low and steady. In fact it almost scared him. "If you think for one second I'm not dedicated to this case, you are dead wrong. Call me names, pick fights, don't make the effort to brief me, whatever, but  _do not_  ever say that I don't want to close this case because I want to be here as much as you want me here."

"At least we agree on one thing."

"I am not finished," she said, her eyes boring into his dangerously. "I have tried to be civil to make the job easier. If I recall it correctly, you were the one that suggested that we spend more time together and I find it ironic that you're the one that has been resisting to this idea. You say that you want to close this case, but judging from your behaviour I don't think you do."

"Oh but I do. I want to close this case. You know why? Because I'm fucking tired of hearing that I'm not more than a name. I did my time under house arrest, I've donated more galleons that I can count, I've become an Auror, and I've spent a fucking year of my life with the people that could very well end it for Merlin's sake, but I will  _never_  be more than a Death Eater."

"And you don't think I know what that feels like?"

Once again a silence rose upon the two of them. Draco could no longer look into her eyes, for though they weren't really hers, when he looked at them he still saw that gleam. Desperate, cold, wrenching despair. It was like reliving that moment, and all those other moments. He did know that she knew what he felt like. Exactly. Wasn't it bound to happen to him? Karma's a bitch, isn't that what they say.

But he deserved it. After all it was him who was one of the people who made her feel that way. It was even worse for her; she was discriminated against her blood. Something she was born with. He had a choice not to succumb to his father, but he did it anyway. He made his bed when he was younger, and now that he is older he must lay in it. It still doesn't make it fair.

Granger stood up from his chair, and began to walk towards the door, dragging the blanket on the floor as it was still wrapped around her.

"Good night," she mumbled, not bothering to face him when she said it.

Draco hesitated at first, but then called her back: "Granger, wait." He caught up to her, resisting the urge to grab her hand.

"Look I'm tired of this. Just stop, please," she stopped, and turned to face him with an expression that pleaded him to stop. But she needed to hear this. She needed to know. Most of all, he needed to say it.

She picked up her pace, but he grabbed her shoulders to face him. "No, let me just-I'm…sorry. I…" he let go of her, and diverted his gaze towards the ground. Though he practiced it many times in his head before, he was still unsure of what to say. She looked at him expectantly.

"I didn't mean to harass you like that. Back at Hogwarts, I mean. I don't have any excuses. What I've done, it's inexcusable. And-and that  _day_  I just  _watched_  you. I should have done  _some_ -"

"You couldn't," she interrupted, firmly.

"Yes, I could have," Draco took a deep breath, for along the way he had forgotten how to breathe. "Merlin, Granger. You won't even let me apologize to you properly."

"Well if you apologized for things you could have actually controlled then maybe I would. "

"Shut up, will you? If I could take it all back I would, but I can't. And I'm sorry for fucking up your life because I was a fucking coward," Draco burst out, angrily and impatiently.

"So sincere," Granger said sarcastically, with a ghost of a smile on her face.

"Now you're pushing it."

She sighed, leaning against the doorframe. It was the first time they'd actually acted well, almost chummy. Another silence fell between them. Draco watched her carefully, wanting to know what she was thinking. It was another one of those times where Draco didn't know what happened next.

"I don't know whether I'm ready to let go of everything that happened," she admitted.

"You don't have to," he urged. "I'm not asking you to forget or become my best friend. Or whatever mushy shit people say. I'm just asking for you to forgive me."

She hesitated, looking at him once again, "Do  _you_ forgive  _me_?"

"Yes. Do you?" She waited a moment before answering, biting her lip.

"Yes," she replied firmly.

Inwardly, Draco felt the utmost relief. All the guilt he had harboured inside- though was still evident- was significantly lessened. He wondered what this would mean for their relationship now. Was he turning into a big softy? That could not happen. For many reasons. The most important reason being his mission. And his ego, of course.

"Don't expect me to go soft on you, Granger. You're still annoying as ever."

She laughed and turned away, walking out of the room. But not before saying one more thing, with a smirk on her face.

"I count on it, ferret."

* * *

"Ouch!"

Once again Narcissa had gotten her way. Tonight was their engagement ball, and as one would imagine being undercover amongst a bunch of criminals who would kill you in a heartbeat: Hermione was nervous. Scared, no. But, nervous. Narcissa had insisted that they buy a new dress as much as Hermione protested, for she had more than enough dresses to wear in her closet. But there they were, getting a brand new gown fitted.

"Stay steell, 'ermione," Guilianna said, tugging at the midnight blue fabric, and pinning it with needles. "Voila!"

"I think it looks perfect, Guilianna. Thank you," Narcissa said, noticing how tired Hermione looked. Guilianna fled the room, much to Hermione's relief.

She stared at herself in the mirror. The dress was one of the most beautiful-albeit expensive- dresses she had ever worn in her life. It was a v-neck gown with a tulle A-line skirt in dark shimmery blue that caught the light beautifully.

"Can we go over the practice questions again?" she said, not entirely looking forward to conversing tonight. It's one thing to put someone in a party with a bunch of people they don't know but it's another when everyone at that party literally hates your blood.

Narcissa shook her head, "Hermione, we've gone through this many times today already. You're answering them perfectly. In fact I was about to suggest that you go get briefed with Draco before getting ready for the party."

"Oh," Hermione said. During the past few days her and Malfoy had begun to draw out plans to assimilate Hermione into the society conspicuously. Other than that they hadn't spoken much, for she was too consumed in her lessons and he had to work.

"Alright," she agreed. "I'll just go change then."

"Don't, you might as well keep it on," Narcissa smiled knowingly.

She quirked a brow, "But the ball begins in three hours."

"Yes it does, that means you have to be back here in an hour. Purebloods expect only perfection," she replied, as if it were obvious. "Now go on," she urged, shooing Hermione out of the room. She suspected Narcissa had something up her sleeve. As to what, Hermione didn't know.

She walked down the hall, barefoot and her gown swishing around her. When she arrived at the large wooden doors that led to his office, she knocked. It opened for her magically, and found Malfoy standing at his desk with his head in his hands.

"What is it, Granger?" he groaned, irritably,

"Your mother wanted me to come up here to get briefed for tonight," she answered happily, just to annoy him further. "Slept on the wrong side of the bed, did you, Malfoy?"

"Shut up," he growled, taking his hands away and organizing some papers on his desk. Finally his eyes reached to where she was standing, looking her up and down. "Why, don't you look…decent."

Hermione snorted, "You really know how to charm a girl."

Malfoy glared at her, and took out the case file. "I presume that you've already done your background research on the guests that are coming tonight?"

"Yes, but I need to know who is priority, Narcissa's gossip and criminal records only give me so much."

"I suggest that you become close with Daphne Greengrass. You most likely remember her from Hogwarts. Her family is one of the more powerful pureblood families, and she's married to Marcus Flint."

"Your superior."

Malfoy nodded in reply, "Pansy Parkinson will probably be included in the package, but it's no matter. I'm sure she'll be of use." Oh joy, won't that be fun. Hermione hadn't seen Pansy Parkinson since the war, and for good reason. She hoped that Pansy wasn't as pug-faced and bratty as she had been at Hogwarts. The worst part is that she'd actually have to pretend to like her. Damn.

"And of Montague?"

"He'll be there. He's charming, but don't buy into it. More importantly, do not be left alone with him. My mother or I will accompany you at all times. Otherwise, let's hope that the men keep their hands to their pretty little trophy wives tonight."

That reminded Hermione of what Guiliette had said to her earlier this week of women showing up beaten and bruised. When Hermione was younger there had always been a part of her that was ashamed of being a muggleborn. She thought the purebloods had the life. But now… She understood why Sirius and Andromeda had run away. This not a safe place to live in, let alone for children.

"I can take care of myself," she shot back, feeling offended that he though she needed to be babysat. Sure, it wasn't safe. But she was strong enough to take them. There was a reason why she had some of the highest marks Hogwarts had ever seen.

"Let me remind you that you know nothing of the people that are coming tonight. You have no idea what they're capable of."

"If you think I don't stand a chance-"

"That is not what I'm saying. I have no doubt that you can beat one of them in a duel in a heartbeat. However if you would take a second to actually think about what you're saying you'll realize that not only do they outnumber you and know a wide repertoire of dark magic, but you're officially undercover."

Finally, everything became very real for Hermione. It wasn't until now, that she had realized that there was no going back. The books and the lessons, they're only pretend. It's only information on a page. Words. This was the real thing. She could no longer get away with being Hermione Granger playing the part of the "wife". Now, she had to become it.

"So basically I can't protect myself if they try to abuse me or rape me. Isn't that what you're saying?"

"If you're willing to blow your cover for it. But that won't happen so long as I'm there or Narcissa is there."

Hermione found herself trusting him and as much as she hated that fact that she couldn't defend herself when she could, she understood. This was the most logical decision. Whether it was the morally right decision, Hermione wasn't' sure. She wondered whether that even mattered anymore.

"Fine," she said, defeated.

"Stay clear of Montague. And Warrington too; he's a pervert and fucking idiot."

She sighed, picking up her skirt. "Alright. I'll pick you up from your room at seven."

"Can't wait," he answered dryly, burying himself in his work once again. She rushed out of the room, desperately wanting to be alone, even just for a moment. She just needed to catch her breath and savour the last moments of freedom for the next few months or maybe even a year. It helped that she knew that she was doing it all to save lives, but it was hard to prepare herself for what came next, because they  _didn't_  know what came next.

* * *

Hermione was officially burnt out after the elves had stopped fussing over her hair and makeup. Not because she had to do anything physically draining, but because she was trying to tell them that she could do it herself. All the guilt was stressing her out.

It was a few minutes to seven o'clock, and she slipped her strappy silvery heel on, much to her discomfort. She moved a piece of her light blonde hair out of her face and back into the elegant braid it had been twisted in to. She walked down the hall, stumbling a few times along the way, and found the bedroom door open. She stepped in not bothering to knock, and waited for him at his boudoir.

She saw a part of his bare chest that was all reddish brown, as if his skin had been burnt. There was something imprinted in black that she couldn't make out. It was obvious to Hermione that it wasn't just a regular tattoo. It had looked like it was painful. She was curious but couldn't draw any conclusions.

Malfoy stepped out of his closet, buttoning up the top button of his crisp white dress shirt. His hair was slicked back with gel, making him look more like his younger self than usual.

"You're a hypocrite, you know that? You always tell me not to be late, when it's really you who's the late one."

"My house my rules," he replied matter-of-factly, taking out a dark blue tie out of his dresser.

"Well technically it's going to be  _our_  house."

He shot her a glare, walking over to the mirror and grabbing his black robe. He stared at himself, turning around and checking himself out.

"I look good."

Hermione scoffed, "And you're modest too."

"Oh come on, Granger. Admit it. You find me attractive."

She rolled her eyes, "Sorry, I don't find ferrets to be all that attractive."

He looked back at her, smirking, "Do my ears deceive me? Little miss goody two shoes just broke a house rule."

She shook her head in denial, "No I didn't."

"Rule #2: no comments on my previous experience as a ferret."

"Damn," she said, defeated.

He picked up his shoes and began to put them on, pretending to think deeply,  
"Now you owe me, but I think I'm going to save it for a rainy day."

"That's not how this works," she shot back, already despising the fact that she owed  _him_  something. And that she was the first one to break the rules that she suggested they made.

"It works how I say it works. You broke the rules. So I have the upper hand."

Hermione got up impatiently, deciding to change the subject. "Are you ready to go?"

"No, I have one more thing." Malfoy walked over to a wooden chest under his bed. She heard him whisper some kind of password or spell to unlock it. He opened it, taking out a green velvety box from inside.

"It's a family heirloom, so don't fuck it up. It costs 4 times your limb," he warned, placing it on the boudoir.

"You're lucky I can't kick your ass right now," she growled in return, as he took out a sparkling diamond ring. There were two silver bands that were snakes the twisted around her finger that clasped a large diamond in the middle.

Hermione stared down at it in awe, "I can't wear this."

"You can and you will. Purebloods deserve only the best. It's what everyone will expect you to wear," he replied firmly, placing it in her hand and looking at her expectantly. She sighed defeated, not wanting to waste time arguing about it. She slipped it onto her ring finger, feeling the snakes tickle her fingers as they slithered around them. She took his arm and exited the room, rushing to the ballroom not looking forward to being scolded by Narcissa for being late.

"We are going to be late if you don't hurry up, Granger."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm walking in weapons of mass destruction, unlike you," she glared at him, trying to pick up the pace by hitching her tulle skirt up from the floor.

Hermione could hear the music play and the lively chatter from the hall. She began to grow more anxious, she was confident in her abilities but when it really came down to it she knew she couldn't mess up. There were absolutely no room for errors in this mission. She couldn't help but panic slightly inside her head, for a rush of the worse case scenarios flooded her head.  _What if their stories didn't match up? What is their engagement didn't look believable? What if someone grew suspicious? What if someone could see the similarities between her and her alias?_  Hermione let out a shaky breath, attempting to calm herself down.

"I won't let anything happen to you," Malfoy whispered, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. He had almost sounded tender; he kept a stoic face with his eyes locked onto the ballroom door at the end of the hall.

"Well, I won't let anything happen to you either," she said, building up her cold exterior- just as he had- for the ball.

She felt him look down at her, "I don't doubt it."

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed! Thank you to everyone who left a comment, kudo, or has bookmarked this story. I love you all to bits. 

xoxox GeekAttack


	9. Conceal

They had reached the large doors that led to the ballroom and found Narcissa rushing towards them, not looking very content with them.

"Oh, you two nearly gave me a heart attack. The guests are already arriving, go to your places, go on," she reprimanded, pushing them closer to the doors.

"Yes mother," Malfoy said, sounding more like a child than a grown man. Narcissa flashed a brilliant smile and glided into the room to introduce them.

Draco placed a cool hand on the small of her back and guided them into the room soon after. She shivered at his touch, but not because it was cool against her warm skin. Ron had used to be the only person who had done that.

The past week had been a whirlwind for Hermione and it was then that she realized how fast everything had changed around her. She had been dealing with Ron, and work at the office was slow and systematic, and now… Well, now she had left Ron behind (in which a part of her still felt extremely guilty for) and had taken on this monster of a mission with a man that she had strongly disliked for the majority of her life. Everything was so unpredictable and that made her very uncomfortable.

"Stop squirming."

Hermione felt herself flush slightly, "Well, I'm sorry, but if we had practiced this like  _I_ said we should, I wouldn't be."

She looked around at all the people who attended, dressed in expensive gowns and robes. Priceless jewellery hanging from their ears, necks, and wrists; hair smoothed back neatly or done up. She had visited the ballroom before, for it was mandatory for her to learn how to dance, but it seemed to glow tonight. Beautiful murals covered the ceilings, and the crystals in the chandelier made the light look as if it was shimmering down on everyone.

She already felt a few eyes following her every move. "Does intimacy make you uncomfortable, Granger?" Malfoy added with a smirk, noticing her discomfort.

"With you? Always," she said with a cool smile, though inwardly she was giving herself a pat on the back for the comeback.

Narcissa then cast a Sonorus charm, and held her wand to her throat. "Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for coming this evening. We are honoured to have you here. Without any further ado, let me introduce the guests of honour tonight, the newly engaged couple: my son, Draco and his fiancée, Rose Garrott."

Hermione and Malfoy walked onto the ballroom, surrounded by all the guests in a large semi-circle. Malfoy took the wand from his mother to make a few welcoming remarks.

"Rose and I are delighted that we can celebrate such an important time in our lives with all of you. Enjoy."

The guest applauded again, some raised their glasses to toast to them. She was glad to see the people now smiling at her- except for the single women crowded in the back who were all hoping for Malfoy to sweep them off their feet sent glares her way.

Malfoy and Hermione began to do their rounds, making their way to each table. They were approached by a middle-aged lady who wore a bright red, feathered gown and a black feather boa.

"Congratulations, Draco," she greeted, kissing him on both cheeks and doing the same for Hermione.

"Thank you Mrs. Zabini, it's been too long. May I introduce you to my fiancée?"

Hermione stuck her hand out, "Rose Garrott, it's a pleasure."

Mrs. Zabini shook it lightly and stared scrutinizingly at Hermione, "Such an enchanting thing, isn't she? She'll make a perfect Malfoy bride, my dear."

"It's a shame Blaise wasn't able to make it tonight."

"Isn't it? He's off in Italy on business but he'll be back in time for the wedding, I'm sure. Oh he would just love to meet you. You should come by the Manor some time for tea."

Blaise Zabini off in Italy for business? Was he planning on expanding his investment company to other countries? Hermione remembered Blaise from Hogwarts. He was intelligent, albeit pretentious at times, but clever. If he was planning on expanding this could mean some large money being exchanged very soon. Do you have any idea what this could mean for the wizarding economy?

"It would be an honour, Mrs. Zabini. I would love to discuss his plans for his busi-"

Malfoy interrupted her, sending her a warning look, "-We would love to discuss his  _trip_ , and I'll have my mother arrange something with you Mrs. Zabini."

The woman's eyes lit up excitedly, like a child on Christmas morning. "Wonderful, I'll let you two lovebirds mingle."

"It's been a pleasure seeing you again, Mrs. Zabini," she kissed them all goodbye leaving behind her lipstick on their cheeks. When it rubbed out it actually made them look more human like and less overly pale.

"That was a close one, Granger," Malfoy gritted through his teeth.

"Sorry, but it was  _one_  mistake,  _alright_?" she shot back heatedly.

"One little mistake can screw both of us over," he countered as he guided them towards the drinks table.

She glared, "You don't think I know that?"

Hermione saw Malfoy space out- something, or rather  _someone_  had caught his attention. He had every excuse to, because there, entering the ballroom was Astoria Greengrass. Hermione vaguely remembered the Ravenclaw; she was far too occupied with more  _important_  things than getting to know everyone at Hogwarts. But it didn't matter much of what she looked like then, because she certainly looked elegant now. She glided in wearing a deep green strapless gown that hugged her curves. She had her dark brown locks gently curled and large diamonds hanging off her ears and neck. She practically had every eye on her as she approached them.

"From now on, let me do the talking," Malfoy growled.

"Gladly," Hermione shot back, holding onto his arm tighter and plastering on a cool smile while they greeted their guest.

"Draco!" Astoria greeted, kissing him on both cheeks and lingering a bit longer than she should. Hermione could sense the strong tension between the two of them even before she opened her mouth. Narcissa told her nothing of Astoria except of her relation to Daphne, which was obvious, nor was there any file on her. Who was she? Past girlfriend? Ex-wife? Mistress? Family friend? Friends with benefits? The gears in Hermione brain began to turn, trying to piece everything together.

"Astoria, you look lovely as always," Malfoy said with his usual smirk, checking Astoria out very obviously in front of Hermione. She rolled her eyes inwardly,  _does this man have any tact? Honestly! If she grows suspicious of your devotion to me, it's on you._

"And you're still as charming as I remember…and  _who_  might this be?" Astoria raised a brow, staring Hermione as if she were a toxic substance that needs to be properly cleaned and disposed of. Hermione tried her best not to retaliate, though it was excruciatingly hard.

Malfoy reacted as if he totally forgot that Hermione was still there, and then found his composure, "This is my fiancée, Rose. Rose this is Astoria, she was a year below me at Hogwarts."

Hermione stuck out her hand for Astoria to shake. She looked down at it with revulsion, but reluctantly shook it lightly anyway. "It's a pleasure, I've heard a lot about you from Draco."

"Nothing bad, I hope," Astoria said, looking at Malfoy, who was ignorant to her dislike of Hermione.

"Of course not," he said, staring back at Astoria with an almost lustful gleam in his eye. Hermione could have gagged at the sight, but refrained from it. "As if there was anything bad to say anyway."

They stood in silence for a few seconds with Astoria and Malfoy practically having intercourse with one another with their eyes, which made Hermione highly uncomfortable. She took this as the perfect time to escape.

"How about I go fetch you a drink while you two catch up?"

"Thanks," Malfoy said, not taking his eyes off Astoria. As Hermione reached the bar, she decided that she was going to hex Malfoy when this ball was over.

She wasn't upset that he had forgotten about her, she didn't care about that at all. It was the fact that he had very obviously expressed his sexual attraction towards someone who was not her, which could very well cause suspicion if Astoria chose to say something. Who knows what a rumour like that could turn into? How is might it effect their mission? It seemed to Hermione that he was being completely hypocritical. Her slip up was nothing compared to how dangerous that was.

Hermione watched Astoria run her hand along Malfoy's sleeves as she ordered them elvish wine. Though she'd much rather drink something stronger to get her through the night.

"That was a mistake."

Hermione looked to her left to see Daphne Greengrass. She too had changed since Hogwarts. Her once light blonde hair had turned a deep auburn, and her face had become much more angular than her almost baby face she once had.

"Pardon me?"

Daphne swirled her cocktail around her glass, speaking to Hermione as if she was a dog begging for food from the table. "That was a mistake. Leaving your fiancée alone with my sister. It's dangerous, especially when it comes to someone as high profile as Draco Malfoy."

"I don't understand." Of course Hermione understood, she was also intrigued. For she just learned two things. The first being that her impression of Astoria was confirmed, and the second was that Daphne was willing to sell out her sister. She hadn't heard anything about a conflict between the two sisters. Daphne was beautiful, but even tonight Astoria always got the attention. There was bound to be some conflict there.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. Daphne Greengrass."

"He-Rose Garrot."

Both women watched as Malfoy and Astoria got considerably closer. Hermione knew he wouldn't ask Astoria to dance before he asked her, for that would indefinitely turn heads. But it was certainly just as humiliating.

"You know I meant it when I said my sister is going to seize every opportunity she gets to steal him away from you."

Hermione knew she had to play pretend to get information out of Daphne, but it shouldn't be too hard considering how much she got within the first minute of meeting her.

"Why would she do that? She's lovely," she gushed.

"Wow, you really are daft," Daphne rolled her eyes. "But then again, what did I expect? Do I have to spell it out for you? She hasn't gotten over him and now she wants him back."

 _Interesting_ , Hermione thought.  _So they_  were _previously involved._ Considering the fact that Daphne had said that Astoria hadn't gotten over Malfoy, it may have implied that Malfoy had broken it off. Either way, Astoria was no doubt planning on persuading Malfoy to steer away from Hermione and into her own arms.

Hermione wouldn't be offended at all if Malfoy had wanted to have an affair with Astoria so long as Astoria would keep her pretty little mouth shut and absolutely  _no one_  knew of it. Though she and Malfoy weren't  _really_  romantically tied to each other, his romantic interests affected her safety as would her romantic interests would affect his. Lucky for him, her love life is non-existent at least until she had to float back to earth and back to Ron. But she didn't want to think of him then, she was doing too good of a job of repressing all of her emotions to let them all go now.

"And Astoria always gets what she wants, no matter what," Daphne replied bitterly.

"Well, this is much different situation," Hermione answered firmly.

Daphne gave her a look of disbelief, looking as if she was about to spit her drink out all over her black lace dress. "Different, she says! Pffah! Oh really? What makes this situation different from all the other 'bachelors' she managed to snag?"

Hermione decided to let this conversation go before she passes off more intelligent and stronger than she should appear to be. "It's been a delight meeting you, but I'm afraid I told Draco I would bring him a drink. I appreciate the advice, though," she said sounding cold and passive as she picked up her drinks.

"Your ignorance is going to lose you your fiancée."

Hermione inwardly smirked,  _I highly doubt it._  She flashed the redhead a grim smile, and began to walk towards the couple happily chatting away.

"Oh Drake, you're just as funny as I remember!" Astoria exclaimed between giggles, not noticing Hermione approaching them.

"That's interesting, because Draco hasn't a funny bone in his body," she interjected. Malfoy held a questioning expression in his face as she handing him his glass of wine and found her place beside him.

"No really, he has quite the sense of humour. At least with  _me_ , anyway." Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line; this woman did not understand the concept of subtlety. This time Hermione made an effort not to reply to her stupid attempts to push her buttons.

"No, Rose just likes to bully me, don't you?" Malfoy replied with a sideways smile. He probably pitied her, by the looks of it. "I mean, someone has to deflate my ego a little bit."

Astoria grinned, "Hopefully not too much. Women love a man with lots of confidence." Hermione snorted,  _and money too, it appears._

The music changed and Hermione took this opportunity as a chance to relieve herself of Astoria's presence. "Draco, we haven't danced all night and it  _is_   _our_ engagement party," she said, hoping to try to communicate to Malfoy that they should flee the conversation or to signal for him to tell Astoria to back off.

"Would you do me the honour, Miss Garrott?" he said, holding out his arm for Hermione to take hold of. She nodded her head and locked her arm with his.

"If you would excuse us, Astoria," she said, looking back at Astoria. She didn't hold a look of disgust, as Hermione expected, instead she almost looked more vindictive. It was as if she saw Hermione as a challenge that would make her victory all the more sweet.

Malfoy guided her to the dance floor where all the other couples swirled around them in colourful blurs. She placed her hand on his shoulder and intertwined the other one with his hand as he gingerly placed a hand on her waist. And then suddenly they began to move along with the music and became a blur of their own.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" Hermione said heatedly, while keeping the delighted expression on her face. "Look, I don't care if you guys did that in  _private_ , but honestly! Out in public,  _and_  at our engagement party in front of all your family and friends? Don't you think-"

He pulled her in closer so that his mouth was at her ear, "Could you just stop harping me and let me explain? Just fucking listen to me for once. I know what risks I'm taking; so stop treating me like I'm reckless and stupid. All you need to know is that I know what I'm doing."

She looked past his shoulder, avoiding eye contact, and felt his intense stare burning on her skin, "No. This is not how we're going to do things. We can't work like this. You withholding information from me, and then me nagging you for it. I've done enough of that for a lifetime. I refuse to continue like this."

Malfoy lowered his voice, "You like to think that you always have the upper hand, don't you Granger? Well too bad because here, you don't. Do you really think that doing it the good ol' Gryffie way will help us here? Sorry to burst your bubble, but not in this world it won't. You know what will? Manipulating people, lying, cheating, stealing."

"Then what makes us so different from the people we're trying to stop?" Hermione challenged, daring him to find a way to defend himself.

"The fact that we're doing it to save people and not to kill them. Or worse, abuse them."

Hermione watched him look away from her as they continued to dance in silence. There was a large part of Hermione that wanted to believe that everything would go back to normal after the war and everything would work out the way it should. What happened was quite the contrary, it seemed. When she was with Harry and Ron and they left Hogwarts together, she felt hardly any guilt when doing questionable or controversial things because they had a  _war_  to win. But the war is over now, and they should have no reason to commit such things. At least that's what Hermione had hoped and what people needed to depend on

She wasn't sure whether there was a honourable way of working this case and if they did, if it'd even work. She did, however, comprehend that there were certain measures to be made and was prepared to make them.

"That doesn't explain why you can't tell me anything. I'm on this case too, in case you've forgotten."

"You may be on this case, but you're not the one calling the shots. You may also think you know how to work this case, but you don't understand this world. Reading about it is  _nothing_  compared the real thing." Hermione found herself letting out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She leaned away from him like she was experiencing whiplash.

"And you think I, of all people, don't know that?"

Books. Chapters. Words. They're so familiar to her because that's what she built her life around. She built her idea of reality around the realities she took from books. So when you're faced with a part of reality where research is useless to you, what do you do? Well on the inside, the walls of your reality will be fractured, and that fracture will turn into a crack if it isn't dealt with. If you try to patch it up, it'd never be the same. But if you do nothing, the wall could break entirely. What does one do? Knock the walls down and start all over, stronger and more stable.

She could remember it very clearly, still, when she had her wake up call. It was fifth year, the night in the Department of Mysteries. Everything felt  _real_. Voldemort and his Death Eaters were  _real._  Books can't teach you how to deal with you and your friends almost dying. Or with your friend's death.

They can't tell you how you're going to  _feel_.

What she had been thinking about must have clearly showed on her face for Malfoy's face fell, realizing what he had just said.

"Granger," his gaze softened ever so slightly, as if some voice in his impeccably cold and stoic brain was debating whether to apologize. But even if he did, she didn't want to hear it.

"No," she said firmly, stopping him from saying anything further.

"Granger, you know-"

" _No,"_ she urged. The song ended, and a few couples began to disperse. She released herself from his clutch, "I'm going to find someone who  _won't_  patronize me." She turned away from him and started to retreat back to their seats, though she knew he was hot on her trail.

" Are you serious? You're embarrassing me. Come back here _, now_ " she heard him call from behind her. Hermione stopped at a corner of the ballroom, when she was sure no one would be able to hear or see them.

"That's a little hypocritical, don't you think?" she whispered fiercely. "You've already embarrassed us both more than enough this evening by rubbing up against Mistress perfect over there."

"You're a child!" he replied, rubbing his temples as if he was the parent who had to put up with its child's endless recklessness. "You're just jealous she's getting more attention than you are."

" _I'm_ a child?" Hermione snorted. "Are you even listening to yourself? Why do guys always seem to think we're jealous? Ever think it might be something more rational than that? Like, I don't know, my safety?"

He began to walk closer to her so that their faces were inches apart, "I've told you already, I know what I'm doing. Why can't you just trust-"

"Because I  _don't_ trust you! I don't!"

Hermione felt as if her voice echoed, and there was a sharp silence between the two of them. Under a different circumstance Hermione would have felt guilty, for though she had felt that way she shouldn't have said it in such a manner. She watched his face sink into a stoic expression as he took a step away from her.

"You don't," he said monotously, no sign of emotion in sight.

"Are you really that surprised? Because you've told me on  _multiple_  occasions that you can't tell me important information and yet you want me to  _trust_  you." How could he not get the irony of this? Despicable.

"You're really jumping at every opportunity to turn me into a villain, aren't you. Granger? I thought you were over that," he smiled bitterly at her, and began to walk away. He stopped suddenly in his tracks, and walked right up, into her face.

"Wake up and smell the fucking roses, Granger. We're on the same fucking side," he didn't raise his voice; he kept it dangerously low. He probably expected her to tremble like a dog that's been kicked or at least be intimidated. Instead she felt empowered by this.

"Then act like it," she spat back at him with everything that she had. Then she walked away from him before he could, and said her goodnights, claiming she had suddenly fallen ill. Malfoy didn't bother talk to her again that night. She had caught a glimpse of him talking to Graham Montague and Astoria Greengrass, but quite honestly she could care less.

While she gathered her clutch, she saw Daphne Greengrass approach her. "You really don't like to listen to people."

"Daphne," Hermione greeted, with a small smile. Malfoy or no Malfoy, she needed to get into the good books of Daphne Greengrass. "No, I don't suppose I do."

Daphne began to twist a lock of her auburn hair around her finger, "You're not helping yourself by leaving. You're making this so easy for Astoria. Suck it up, or lose your man. What's it going to be?"

"Why don't you want your sister to be with my fiancée so badly?" Hermione couldn't help but ask. She watched as the auburn haired woman leaned in closer.

"I quite like you, Rose. I don't want to see you being thrown out like a used tissue, that's all." Hermione understood what she was really trying to say.

"I think we'd make excellent friends," she said smoothly, standing up from her chair.

"Why don't you come over to the Greengrass Manor for tea some time? It'll be delightful. I'll have my mother arrange something with Narcissa," Daphne smiled brilliantly. It was obvious to Hermione that Daphne was going to use her, but she had to admit she liked her dedication and persistence.

"I would very much like that. Goodnight, Daphne," Hermione said before heading to bed for the night.

"Feel better, Sunshine!" she said in a sing-song manner, under the impression that everything was going her way.

Hermione smiled to herself, she didn't need Malfoy. She could handle it so long as he didn't mess everything up for her. She was such a fool to think that Malfoy could actually be a decent person to be around. It was just that he had been a totally different person before the ball, and then like a light switch he was back to his git-like self. That much kinder person in him made Hermione believe that just maybe they could actually work as partners. But all she had learned tonight that could never be. They could share information, they could share living spaces, but when it really came down to it, they were just fending for themselves.

Which was just fine for Hermione. She had Daphne like putty in her hands. Now all she had to do was shut the organization down, arrest everyone involved in it, and collect all items exchanged through it. It doesn't seem _too_  hard.

When Hermione finally arrived at her room, she collapsed onto the silky white covers. She thought about how unlucky she was not to have stayed longer enough to be introduced to Graham Montague. She was lucky, however, that nothing as terrible as the things she discussed with Malfoy before the ball had happened to her. But she knew she wasn't going to waste her time dwelling on the past. Instead she began to imagine how she'd play her cards from here.

* * *

Hello, readers! I hope you enjoy and I'm sorry if the beginning feel a bit abrupt. It's because this isn't a new  _chapter_ , per se, but a continuation of the last chapter. Thank you to everyone who has commented, kudo-ed, or bookmarked this story. I love you all!

GeekAttack xoxo


	10. Adjourn

Why was it that every time Malfoy and him meet it always seemed to be raining? It almost seemed cliché, really. Nonetheless, it was Harry this time that was running late. It had been a hectic evening at the Auror Department, well, more hectic that usual, anyway. Earlier this morning there had been an incident at 's. A third of their medical records were stolen. Nothing was left behind. No fingerprints, fibres, foot prints, witnesses- nothing at all. There was no evidence of anyone breaking in or breaking out, nor did alarms or protective spells go off. And how exactly do you build a case on absolutely nothing? You don't. The only thing observation they could make was none of the records stolen were the ones of purebloods, but that may have just been pure coincidence.

At least Harry got to escape the chaos for a few seconds before meeting Malfoy about other chaotic case. Harry knew Ginny understood what his job demanded, but he couldn't help but feel guilty. And that guilt drove him to want to close these cases even more.

Harry arrived at their new location: a quaint coffee shop. There was smooth jazz playing in the background and beanbags placed at every corner. Malfoy sat on a stool closest to the wall, away from all the hipsters. On the table were two steaming cups of coffee.

"Two spoonfuls of sugar and-"

"No milk. Merlin, I'm not daft," Malfoy scowled. His hair was slicked back- which Harry snickered at- and he wore very posh dress robes. If only his face looked as nice as his clothes, then maybe he'd actually look welcoming for once.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" the green-eyed man smirked.

"Shut up," Malfoy exclaimed exasperatedly, as he wrapped his fingers around his cup for warmth. "Update me, if you must."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at his unpleasantness. Not that he's usually pleasant- but just more unpleasant than usual. He actually liked his wit from time to time, but would never admit it if asked.

"You know that sentence doesn't make any sense. You want me to shut up but you also want me to tell you things. You're contradicting yourself." Malfoy rolled his eyes as if he was a child who wasn't getting his way and wanted to be sassy about it. In fact that was an accurate description of Malfoy's attitude most days.

Harry began to get out his files as he heard Malfoy huffing about in his seat. "This is getting ridiculous, Malfoy. Just tell me what's bothering you, for Merlin's sake!"

Malfoy suddenly exploded, and smacked his hand on the table. Luckily the hipsters in the corner were too busy talking amongst themselves to notice and the cashier looked too bored to care.

"It's fucking, Granger! That's what. Out of the whole Auror Department. No- the whole Ministry! You fucking pick  _her_? The most disagreeable woman I have ever encountered in my entire life." Malfoy's little outburst almost amused Harry. It had been the most entertaining thing he's seen all day.

"What's happened to you Malfoy? All worked up over one girl? Merlin, she really  _has_ driven you mad!" Harry snickered.  _Go Hermione!_  he cheered, inwardly.

"One girl, he says.  _She's_  the mad one. She got angry with me for talking to another woman. Claims that it might put her in danger. What a load of bullshit."

Harry glared at Malfoy, "'Mione has saved my life upon multiple occasions. So if she believes that your actions may lead to harm, then I will not hesitate to remove the threat so that she will feel safe. Just as she has done for me. There's such a thing as respect, Malfoy. I suggest you have some for her."

Malfoy sat back down on his seat and returned Harry's glare, "Well I suggest that she has some for  _me_. How can I work with someone who won't even trust me?"

"Well, do you trust her?" Harry pried. Harry wasn't much of a gossip; he understood the destruction it can cause, and has caused. But he couldn't help but notice that Malfoy was terrible at expressing emotions other than anger, grumpiness, and just no emotion at all. He needed someone to nudge him in the right direction. That was all.

Malfoy fell silent for a moment as Harry watched his inner turmoil. He looked down at his hands, which he had been clenching since Harry arrived, but now he stared at them with his palm open as if he were trying to read his hands for the answer. He then looked up at Harry with a slight pout on his face and his eyebrows knit together.

"I don't know."

Harry nodded understandingly, "Have you done anything that would make her trust you without a doubt?"

"No, but-" Malfoy began before Harry cut him off.

"There are no buts. You have no excuse for her not trusting you." Harry watched Malfoy sink back into his chair.

Ever since Harry brought Hermione into the equation he noticed Malfoy acting different. Not the obvious kind of different, but the kind that you'd detect when someone would say or do something out of the ordinary.

"How about we begin talking about the case rather than my personal life?"

Harry nodded, "Any progress on your end?"

"I'm still stuck doing slave work for them, and I'm not allowed to go to regular meetings just yet. They're smart, Potter. They won't let just anyone who shares the same vision as them in. Or else they didn't learn anything from Riddle's mistakes," Harry could hear a mixture of bitterness and determination in Malfoy's voice. Or was it determination caused by bitterness? He couldn't tell anymore.

Either way, Malfoy had a good point. They had to be patient, slowly wait for them to trust, and then pounce. Unfortunately, the only danger is if they wait too long. By the time they're finally in, they're become too strong to overtake. Harry hoped that Hermione's progress would speed up the process.

"And how is Hermione doing? Was the ball a success?"

Malfoy immediately scowled, "Despite her being a bumbling fool for the majority of it, she made an excellent impression. Everyone I spoke to made her out to be lovely fiancée, and wished to get to know her more. So much so, that Montague has invited us to a party at his manor this week."

"Good, he's letting you into his personal group. That's good," Harry found himself drifting off.

Suddenly he felt so detached from everything. He hadn't realized until now, when he had to ask  _Malfoy_  how Hermione was doing rather than ask her himself. He realized he had told Hermione that  _he_  would look after Ron, but he had asked Ginny to do that because there was just too much stuff for him to handle at work. He hadn't even told Ginny that he loved her since a few days ago. Why did it have to be impossible to do both? Run the Auror Department  _and_  spend time with his family. You can never succeed in one without failing at the other.

He promised himself then that after this he would go home. To say I love you to Ginny, and to take care of Ron. And try his hardest to be better.

"Potter? I know it's hard not to day dream about my perfect body, but we have to get at least some work done," Malfoy smirked at Harry's blank expression.

"Hm?"

Malfoy shook his head. They both sat in a rare, comfortable silence. Harry knew they both needed time to clear their heads, for there were too many thoughts in there to be healthy. Malfoy looked back at Harry, with his grey eyes piercing into his.

"You have to stop doing this to her. You have to stop keeping her in the dark." To a stranger, it seemed like Malfoy didn't say much. But to Harry, he said everything.

Harry stood up from his seat, and shrugged his coat on. As he was about to make his way out, he stood close to Malfoy, leaning down so that his mouth was next to his ear and said:

"You know my reasons, and so long as I stand by them you will not tell her. And that's an order." With that, Harry stormed out of the café and into the alley to apparate home.

Harry had gone over this a million times in his head. He had discussed it with Malfoy. And yet he still can't seem to get it into his head that Harry is protecting her with this. He thought that Malfoy respected him enough to honour his decision, like he has in the past. But he still continues to doubt the very decision Harry felt certain about. He understood the consequences. He understood the risks. But Harry loves Hermione. She is one of his closest friends. And he's given the chance to protect her from the very things that haunt her to this day, and Malfoy expects him to give it up?

Harry appeared in the middle of his living room to find Ginny sitting on the sofa, reading the paper. Her rich ginger hair was held up loosely in a bun with pieces poking out from every direction, as if she just came back from flying. Her legs were crossed, and her eyebrows were knit together.

She looked up and smiled at him, "What's got your panties in a twist?"

"You." He walked over the sofa next to her and planted a kiss on his forehead, "Gin, look, I'm so sorry I haven't been around lately and you don't deserve-"

"Shut up and come here, you big softie," she teased, pulling him onto the couch next to her. She curled up beside up, lying her head on his chest. He felt her breathe in unison with him, as he stroked her hand with his thumb.

He closed his eyes as he held the woman he loved in his arms, savouring the moment before it disappeared and got caught in the net of corruption and crime.

* * *

The blonde-haired man lifted his hood as he stepped into his boss' domain. There wasn't much light, just as it was every meeting, but there seemed something different about the room. Something changed. The man didn't know whether it was the ambience or just the vibe the group was giving off.

They stood in a semi-circle and though they all had hoods on, the man knew that standing in the middle was Montague. The man stepped towards Montague, bowing his head slightly to greet him. He dared not bow, for this group was different than the Death Eaters. This group was slightly more democratic, for everyone held respect for each other and everyone's talents put to use. Though Montague always had the final say, he didn't hold a king-like status like Voldemort had.

When the blond-haired man had shown himself to the council, Montague and the council followed suit. The group had shrunk since the man had last seen it, though his memory of that night wasn't exactly the sharpest for the pain had blurred some of the lines. A few members he hadn't seen before appeared, two women and a man. Montague cleared his throat, allowing the meeting to officially begin.

"Malfoy," Montague began, circling the man as a vulture would its prey. "You have proved yourself a valuable asset, but we knew that from the beginning. We have set you on paperwork duty to ensure that you had patience and discipline. Both of which are crucial characteristics for each member of our group to have."

Montague stopped in his tracks, and walked right in front of the blonde-haired man. Staring at him, eye to eye.

"The council believes you are almost ready for full recruitment."

The man scowled, "Almost?"

Montague nodded, "We must test your loyalty, you see. We can't afford to have a double agent on our hands, now can we?" Some of the blond-haired man's muscles grew rigid at Montague's words.

"But," Montague continued, "I have no doubt we'll have any problem with you." He suddenly felt them relax.

"What do I need to do?" the blond-haired man asked. He did not sweat, squirm, or twitch. He was a bit nervous with anticipation, but he didn't let it show. He was a trained liar. He was also a trained killer but that didn't mean he liked to kill.

"Hunt the following wizards and witches," Montague described, as a council member handed him a file, which was given to the man. "And bring them to the address provided for you in the file. Di Angelo will brief you for how to perform the second task."

"Failure to do so will result in  _immediate_  exile," Di Angelo said, with a haughty look on her face.

Montague threw her a look, then directed his attention back to the man, "Once again, I doubt we'll have any problems with that. I have high hopes for you, Malfoy."

The blond-haired man looked Montague right in the eyes, "Then they will be met. Now I'm finally out of the doghouse, I'm ready to get my hands dirty." Montague smirked at the man, looking as if his prey had surrendered to him willingly and was doing a dance.

"Excellent. Meeting dismissed."

The member all around began to murmur in low voices, glancing towards the blonde-haired man with varied expressions of interest, disgust, or confusion written on their faces. The man, however, was calm and quiet. He knew they all were speaking about him, and that was exactly how he wanted it to be.

Just as he was walking down the alley way to apparate back, he saw shadows shift and swing around him like a whirl pool. Then suddenly it stopped, and there stood a woman.

"Guess you're the talk of the party, huh?" Di Angelo stood leaning against the doorframe, twirling her wand between her fingers. Unlike the others, Di Angelo looked young, innocent, and naïve. Though her bite and bark are far more menacing than her looks. Her soft brown hair was pulled back into a loose braid, and her soft dark eyes makes those who meet her melt right into her little hands.

The man knew of her childhood, which was quite a perfect one in fact. Rich and loving parents, a baby brother, and enjoyed training magical creatures as a hobby. The man often wondered what led her to leave that life and choose one like this. But if there was one thing that Draco knew well, it was that you can never judge just from what's on the surface.

"Well, you know me. Mr. Popular, with the good looks and all. Can't help it if they're jealous," the man replied.

Di Angelo snorted, "I know they're jealous, but definitely not of your good looks."

"Sounds like you're pretty jealous of them too."

"Sounds like you're asking for a beating right now, aren't you Malfoy?"

"To be honest, not really. I'm quite tired and should be going." The man turned away from the young woman, grasping his wand tightly.

"You better watch your back," Di Angelo warned, before the man retreated back to his manor. "Some of these people will be out for your blood if you make one wrong move. You want to charm your way around this place? Fine, so long as you do your fucking job right. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, mother," the man faced Di Angelo sardonically, "You have no faith in me do you, Di Angelo? It's a pity really, I had such high hopes for you."

She began to circle him, watching his every move thoughtfully "I think we're both smart enough to know that there's more to you than what meets the eye." She swiftly grabbed him by the collar, disarming him before he had a chance to strike. "Hold on to your precious faith, Malfoy, while you can. I have high hopes for  _you_."

She let go roughly, without so much of a flinch in her stoic expression, and left his wand behind before disappearing back into the warehouse.

It was obvious that the man was entirely confused by the woman's behaviour towards him. He was unsure whether she was on his side or the complete opposite. Was she threatening him or warning him? Or both? He had gotten used to easily reading people's expressions and physicality to scope out liars, people's true selves. But he had only met a few people in his life that he had difficulty reading, and Di Angelo just became one of them. He thought he marked her down as the enemy but now he wasn't so sure. Though he could say with certainty that his assumption about the power of her abilities was utterly and painfully true.

He grabbed a hold of his wand, and apparated onto the quidditch pitch. The man had not meant to end up there, but he felt something pulling him there. As if he were a piece of metal being dragged by a magnetic force to the field. It was only a matter of minutes to sun rise, and the man could see the sky turning purple nearing the horizon. He waited on the stands for the moon to disappear and the sun to take its place, and the sky to turn light blue.

As he sat there, he heard a few footsteps and immediately reached for his wand, "Show yourself."

"Don't mind me, Draco, my boy. Just going on my morning walk- that's how you know I'm really getting old," the wizard said, chuckling. He took off his hat revealing his silvery grey hair underneath, and took a seat next to Draco.

"Benny," he greeted his old friend, "Sorry about that- it's been a rough night."

"I can tell," Benedict answered knowingly, "I can read you like an open book. What is it this time? Lady trouble?"

Draco chuckled bitterly, he only wished it was lady trouble. It saddened him that it was far from that. He had always tried to shelter Benedict from the horrors that he had seen and experienced. He had never told Benedict about what his father did to his mother, nor did he tell him about his affiliation with the Death Eaters. He couldn't even bear to see old Benedict for years out of shame of what he had done and who he had been. During his childhood, Benedict had been like a father to him. He never pushed too much or questioned him; he only offered his support and nothing in return. Draco couldn't expose someone so pure hearted to the hatred he and his family hoarded.

"You couldn't be more correct," he replied, offering a small smile and lying through his teeth.

"Then I'm afraid I can't be of much help, I've never been much of a ladies man. In fact I much prefer the latter, if you know what I mean," he chuckled, "But tell me what's on your mind, and maybe that'll help, if only a little."

Draco supressed his urge to spill everything to the man, and pretended to check his watch, "Really, I shouldn't bother you and Rose is probably wondering where I've wandered off to. I…" for the first time in a long time, he didn't know what to say. It was apparent to him that Benny knew he was lying; he had done it a million times in the past, but still couldn't own up to it.

"It's alright, Draco. I understand," Benny answered, his eyes crinkled as he grinned. Benny always knew what to say when he didn't.

"Thank you," Draco said breathily, as he put his hand on top of Benny's rough and calloused ones. Perhaps it was just because he got caught up in the moment, or perhaps it had been true from the start but it was then when Draco thought to himself about the love he felt for Benny. It was truly unmatched.

* * *

Hermione still had not forgotten about the young girl in portrait. Her investigative instincts told her to follow her gut, and her gut told to her snoop. It was her brain that always got in the way.  _Don't you have anything better to do than snoop? Like, I don't know…working on the case? Besides, the real reason you want to snoop is to get back at Malfoy, isn't it? Yes, he endangered the mission and you're right, he shouldn't have acted the way he did in such a public place. However, nothing bad has happened yet because of it and this case will go faster if you work together. Suck it up, and stop avoiding the problem._ Hermione decided for herself to go with her gut, and to her secret room she went.

Once again she reached the large wooden doors, opened them as gently as she could, and snuck in. In the large painting over the metal fireplace was the girl staring right at Hermione, cross-legged on the grass.

"You know, I was waiting for you to come back. You're a curious one, and people like you can't help but give in to the devil," the girl said expectantly, and very wisely. To be that wise at her age, well, it surprised Hermione.

Hermione continued to stare at the girl, shamelessly. It made her so hot and bothered that she couldn't put her finger on it. Who was this girl? And why is she here, hidden away from all the other portraits? With her grey eyes and silky blonde hair, she was a Malfoy, no doubt.

"Carina Augusta Malfoy."

"What?" Hermione snapped out of her state of intense concentration.

"And here I was thinking you were somewhat intelligent," the girl mumbled to herself, until realizing that Hermione still did not understand. "My name, for Merlin's sake! Carina."

"Oh," Hermione blushed profusely. It must have been obnoxiously obvious that she had been wondering about her identity. At times like these, she was never one to hide her desire for answers. "That's a nice name; it's a constellation. But I'm sure you already know that."

Carina nodded her head, "Located in the southern sky, containing the second brightest star."

"Rose Garrott."

"Not Malfoy? I didn't think you'd be one anyway. Too daft and much too book-wormy."

"Hey!" Hermione exclaimed, offended. She wasn't book-wormy. She just had a craving for knowledge that so happened to be in books. That was all. "I'm actually a Malfoy-to-be so, ha!" She never thought she would ever be saying something like that in her lifetime. She was slightly disgusted with herself.

"Really? I can't imagine why any of us would want to marry you. I mean, sure, you  _look_  like you fit in nicely. But you're too…nice."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Thanks? I think?"

"You're welcome. Anyway, who's the victim?"

"Draco, Draco Malfoy? I'm not so sure if you'd know him but-"

"I do."

Hermione watched the little girl suddenly become very distant. Carina wrapped her arms around herself, and her eyes shifted to the ground. She caressed her hair, and began to drift away into her own little world where no one, not even Hermione, could bring her back.

"And-and his father, Lucius? How is he doing?" she asked quietly, so much that Hermione could barely hear it herself.

"Lucius? He's…" she had difficulty stringing the words together. What was she to tell her? He was a disgusting human being who joined the Death Eaters and also forced his family into dark magic. And when the Dark Lord was defeated, went to jail and died. She just settled on giving her the lie that everyone gives:

"He's good."

"That's good. I'm glad," she said with a small smile, although you could tell she didn't truly mean it. "Congratulations. On your engagement, I mean. I'm going to sleep now- I'm quite tired. Do you mind?" Hermione knew that it was the middle of the day, at full sunlight. But she understood.

"Of course not," Hermione said with a knowing smile. She brushed herself off as she stood up from her seat on the rich blue couch. She stood at the door and looked back at her to say good-bye, but the small girl had already curled up into a ball letting out soft whimpers, thinking Hermione had left. She shut the large wooden door, and began to walk back to her room with her mind buzzing.

Hermione wanted to know what went wrong. She knew it had something to do with Malfoy or Malfoy Sr., but she didn't understand and she felt terrible. Carina was just a painting, but it didn't feel like that to Jermione. It was as if she felt what Carina felt as she wept. Was it out of grief? Anger? And  _why_?

What had happened that had the mentioning of their names hurt her so much? She was determined to find out, and this time it wasn't just for selfish reasons. She saw a piece of herself in Carina and felt this sense of responsibility for her that she couldn't shake. But she left it alone, for now anyway. She knew Carina needed her space, and Hermione respected that.

It was mid-afternoon and the warm, golden light shone through her windows. It was her favourite time of day, not bright and not dark. Just enough. Though she desperately wanted to lie on her bed and take a nap until supper, she thought she would run over the case files for the hundredth time in the past two days. She felt as if something were staring her in the face, but no matter how many times she looked through them she missed it.

 _Crack!_  Hermione felt herself jump slightly as Mindy suddenly appeared in the room. She'll never get used to having house elves around.

"Hello, Mindy. How are you today?" Hermione asked politely, waiting for the little elf's answer.

"Mindy is fine, Missus Garrott. Mindy made some apple pies with the other elves today. Missus Garrott's favourite," Mindy replied with a pink tint on her cheeks.

"How did you know?" she laughed, "Thank you, Mindy. And please tell the other elves I said thanks as well. Was there something that you needed?"

Mindy nodded her head, "Yes. Missus Black spoke to Missus Greengrass today, and Missus has been invited to afternoon tea tomorrow at the Greengrass Manor." Hermione's eyes lit up at the sound of this. This was the exact opportunity she needed to collect research for her case. "Also: Master Draco wanted Mindy to remind Missus that the ball at Montague Manor is tonight. Master left this note."

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head due to her surprise and frustration, "Tonight? He never told me anything about Montague inviting us over. Let alone  _tonight!_ First Astoria, and now this? I swear, I'm going to  _kill_  him."

Mindy's eyes dilated to the size of quarters, "Oh please don't Missus. Mindy likes Master Draco. Besides, Master isn't here. Master Draco left for the office this morning and won't be back until it's time for the dinner party."

"Of course he won't, that fucking  _git_ ," Hermione said, her facing growing redder by the second. She inhaled deeply and smiled, "Thank you, Mindy. You may go now. And don't worry, I won't actually kill Master Mal-Draco."

Mindy have her a grateful smile, "Thank you, Missus."  _Crack!_  And she was gone, and Hermione could finally let loose. She put her head in her hands and growled and groaned. He just had to be his stupid cowardly self and chose not to tell her anything until the day of. If he was trying to irritate her then he certainly did that, and more. She opened the note that he had left her:

_Be ready by 7pm. This is Montague, so wear something satisfactory._

_-DM_

She took his note and immediately threw it in the fire. It wasn't worth her time right now, and neither was Malfoy.

* * *

Please let me know if anything is confusing you, I understand that somethings may seem unclear. Feel free to kudo, bookmark, and/or review! I love all your support and utterly grateful for your reads. So tell me what you like, tell me what you don't like, and give constructive criticism! This story is for you. Thank you!

-GeekAttack xoxox


	11. Synergy

Harry yawned for the forth time since he sat down. Things at the office had been busier than usual due to all the press nagging to them about the theft of the medical records from 's. They still hadn't managed to get any leads in the past 2 weeks of investigation. The department has been working non-stop on this case and Harry would be lying if he said they weren't frustrated. But none of them were ready to give up just yet, especially with the press and public making them look like the bad guys.

He expected  _some_ outrage, but many people of the wizarding community are questioning their methods and credibility because of this case. Harry found this ironic, seeing that they should really be questioning the credibility of the Ministry who are actually doing wrong rather than the people who are doing right. He supposed the rumours were inevitable, he had learned that the hard way, but he told his team to ignore it. It didn't help them close the case, and the sooner that happens, the sooner their name is cleared.

While his team was working on the 's case back at the station, Harry was awaiting for Malfoy to join him for herbal tea. He, personally, thought the case was progressing well. He anticipated that this was going to take time and rushing things could blow up in their faces. But he still had his concerns. They still didn't know what the group was planning or when they were going to make their first move. Malfoy had told Harry about his tattoo so he understood what they wanted. Which made him more nervous about what was to come.

"Potter." Harry's favourite angsty teenager slid into the seat across from him, taking off his once again, black cloak.

"Blondie."

"Scarface."

"Pretty boy."

Malfoy smirked, "That one is more of a complement, but I'll take it."

Harry pouted, "Alright, let's get down to business. I need to get back to the office as soon as I can."

"Not much progress on the 's case yet?" Malfoy inquired.

"No," Harry said disappointedly. "That why I'm hoping there is some significant progress on your side of things."

"Malfoys never disappoint," Malfoy said grimly. "They think I'm ready for full recruitment. But, as expected, they've given me a series of tests to prove my loyalty and worth. Here," Malfoy said, handing Harry a piece of parchment with a list of names. Some of them looked familiar to Harry, while others did not. But he knew what they all meant. An assassination list.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" Harry asked reluctantly, he didn't want to know the answer. It could complicate things even further.

"Surprisingly, no," Malfoy answered as Harry exhaled the breath he had been holding. "But I have to kidnap them and bring it to the address below. So what's the plan, Wonder boy?"

Harry thought about it for a moment. Having Malfoy kidnap anyone and hand them off blindly would be a disaster in the making. But what other choice did they have? Was it worth losing their one chance to stop this group from gaining power? He didn't think so, but it didn't mean he was going to be pudding in their hands.

"I want you to go through with it. No harm must come to them in the kidnapping or delivery. I'm going to have some muggle tracking devices sent to you tomorrow morning so we're aware of their every move once the hand off it over. It's unlikely that they're going to check for tracking devices, but if they do they're less likely to check to muggle ones. I want this done cleanly, understood?"

"You got it, boss," Malfoy said with the gleam of determination in his eyes. "Hey, look. We finally agree on a plan for once."

Harry scoffed, "More like your pride didn't get in the way of what's rational for once."

He glared, "That's not true."

Harry thought back to their last conversation.  _It's fucking, Granger! That's what. Out of the whole Auror Department. No- the whole Ministry! You fucking pick her? The most disagreeable woman I have ever encountered in my entire life._  He chuckled to himself. Malfoy's denial of something so obvious amused him. He had to enjoy Malfoy's pain, even just a little.

"Alright," Harry said, giving Malfoy his best 'yeah, right' face. "I better be off. I'm going to take this list and copy it. You'll get it back along with the trackers."

"I'm  _not_  prideful. It's the contrary, actually: people admire my  _humility_ ," he replied with a slight pout.

"What people? Your mother? Narcissa would agree with me in an instant," Harry said smugly, knowing Malfoy hated it when he called his mother Narcissa.

He rolled his eyes, "Get out of my sight, already," he grumbled in his seat. Harry put his arms through the sleeves of his coat, and stood up.

"Love you too, Malfoy!" he said, patting Malfoy's head condescendingly. "Oh and-," he said more seriously, "stay safe. And Hermione too, alright? I worry about you guys sometimes, you know."

"There's a higher risk of us killing each other rather than getting into real danger," Malfoy said bitterly, breaking eye contact with Harry and staring down at the table.

"Well, you two better sort out your issues soon. The success of this mission may depend on it."

And with that, Harry left Malfoy to re-evaluate his life choices and set off to his office, where the fun never ends.

* * *

Draco cradled his steaming hot herbal tea that was supposed to calm is senses. After meeting with Potter, he was nothing but calm. There was just too much to worry about. The dinner party at the Montague's. His assignment. Ensuring that Granger's alias is kept an alias. Ensuring that his little white lies stay secret.

Draco had just remembered that he had forgotten to talk to Potter about the trafficking case and the monthly auction that was to happen in a week. Draco had infiltrated the trafficking business. The job he was assigned was essentially managing the auctioned items before they are shown to the buyers. It allowed him to see what kind of merchandise was being auctioned however; it stopped him from identifying the buyers' name. With the help of a pensieve, he kept the memories of each purchase and kept each one in an individual vial.

Now that Potter had larger things to worry about, Draco thought that he would take the reigns of the trafficking case. Along with Granger, of course. However both of them refused to directly speak to each other since the ball. He supposed it seemed immature, but she started it.

Draco looked down at his watch- it was five to seven. He laid a few bills down on the table to cover his faulty tea, and apparated home. He was welcomed by the smell of sandalwood, just the way he preferred it. He grabbed a pair of black trousers, and a crisp white shirt. He opened out a dark wooden drawer to find a forest green tie, and a black vest. After slightly slicking back his hair, he grabbed a dress robe and was out the door to find Granger.

He walked briskly down the hall to the large white doors that lead into Granger's bedroom. He knocked sharply twice, and immediately barged in. He wasn't invading her privacy if he knocked first. He gave her a warning.

He found Granger sitting on her bed with files scattered all around her. She wore a pastel blue strapless gown that clung to the outline of her figure. It looked to be bothering her as she tried to manoeuvre around it. Her hair, which was surprisingly not hanging in her face per usual, had been done up into a concise ponytail that framed her face nicely. He had to say that she almost looked nice despite the angered look she wore on her face that was no doubt caused by him.

"Look what the cat dragged in," she shot at him as she looked up from the disaster on her bed and met his eyes.

"Let's go," Draco ordered, as he held his hand out expectantly.

"No, let's talk, Malfoy. Seeing that we haven't been doing any of that lately. Why didn't you tell me the real reason why you were being so close to Astoria?"

Malfoy flinched.  _What did she know?_  "I'm not so sure I'm understanding you."

Granger frowned, "No, I'm pretty sure that you're understanding me. Why didn't you tell me Astoria was the woman in charge of the auction's transactions and that's why you were being so chummy with her? Why did you keep almost half the intel from this case locked away from me? Huh, Malfoy? I'm failing to comprehend any of this right now." She spoke dangerously low and steadily, and it sent shivers down his spine. The files on her bed weren't the files that she was given. They were stolen from a hidden stash in his office. There was no place to hide now, he might as well own up to it.

"When I was given this case, I knew exactly how I was going to work it and I planned everything out to a tee. Then I find out that little miss perfect over here is joining me. Potter is my boss and I'd even go as far as saying he's my friend. However, his decision to bring you into this case ruined it all. You're a smart one Granger, I'll give you that. But I don't need you. I can handle this on my own- I  _was_ handling it on my own until your ass showed up!"

Draco felt his breathing getting thicker, and his face grew hotter by the second. The truth had finally come out and he wasn't sure if it was a relief or just another burden. Judging by the outrage in Granger's eyes, he guessed burden.

"You're an i _diot_ , Malfoy," she stared intensely into his eyes, so much that it felt as if it burned Draco. "Lucky for you, after this dinner party, I'm out of here. You think you deal with your own fucking shit? Fine. Let's go."

He didn't know what to think. Draco felt incapable of thinking. It was like a paralysis. So he didn't. He felt Granger grab hold of his arm, and he apparated them to the Montague Manor.

They reached the Manor doors and were immediately greeted by Montague himself. Montague Manor looked similarly to the Malfoy Manor only more prestigious and less old. It had more of a modern flare that his manor didn't. But that's not to say that it wasn't nice. The grounds were lit up and it looked as if it were sparkling.

"Malfoy, good to see you again," Montague greeted him, shaking his hand. "And you must be Rose, I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure to meet you yet." Montague's blue eyes wandered Granger's body and face, as if he had no shame. Malfoy slowly held Granger protectively closer to him, and she looked too entranced with the place to notice.

She smiled with a hint of pink in her cheeks, "I'm glad I finally got a chance to meet you."

Montague held Granger's hand up to his lips, "Please, call me Graham. Won't you come inside, it's getting to be quite chilly." Montague held out his arm for Granger to take hold, but she ignored it and clutched Draco's instead.

They walked inside onto gorgeous marble flooring and a golden chandelier with emeralds hung above their heads. Montague led them to the lounging area, which had a large fireplace with marble detailing onto it. Engraved into the mantle was a coat of arms with a snake and a rose. A part of Draco began to tingle at the sight of it but he shook it off.

"This is my wife, Maria," Montague said, motioning towards a woman with thick, flowing brown locks and light green eyes, who sat on the couch facing the fireplace. "This is Carl Warrington and his guest, Pansy Parkinson. Carmen Di Angelo, Blaise Zabini, and Astoria Greengrass."

Draco hadn't seen Blaise in a couple months, due to his work with his company. He was surprised to see him; his mother said that he would be back in time for Draco's wedding, which was anticipated to happen in December. He didn't think he'd be back this early, let alone at Montague's dinner party with Di Angelo. He though Blaise left this stuff behind after the war, what was he doing here?

After both he and Granger had greeted everyone, they all moved into the dining room for supper. The seating plan was certainly interesting, to Draco anyway. He wasn't so sure he liked it. Montague and his wife sat at the heads of the table. Granger was seated next to Montague, and he was seated between Granger and Astoria. His luck.

* * *

Dinner went smoothly; at least, that's what Hermione thought. There weren't any uncomfortable silences, with Montague around they didn't exist. He really played up the charm with Hermione and she had to say it concerned her. But she went along with it anyway just to be safe. To be completely honest, she wasn't really paying attention to the dinner party for her mind was occupied with what happened before it.

After receiving Malfoy's letter, she was, as expected, furious. She was sick and tired of these vague answers, and being treated like, well, shit. So she did what she had to do. There was no way she was going to solve this case by sitting around waiting for some new intel to come her way that would actual move it forward. That afternoon she snuck into Malfoy's office; it took her about 20 minutes to break through the heavy and various spells used to lock it. Which was a record breaking time for the average person, but for someone like Hermione who was skilled with a wand and very angry it was felt like a millennia. She rampaged her way through his cabinets, until she finally found what she was looking for and she couldn't believe what she found.

Twice the amount of intel she was given had been hidden away. Files, diary entries, vials filled with memory, floor plans, schedules, you name it. Here she was thinking she had nothing to work with, when really she was just being kept in the dark. He probably thought she wasn't cut out for it after the incident. That she couldn't handle a case like this because she had broken down so easily before.

But to find out that she wasn't needed in the first place? Well, she was more annoyed than upset. She uprooted her life, abandoned Ron and her job for this because she thought she was going to do something important for once in a long time. But she wasn't needed. She wasn't relevant. And it was all for naught. So she just decided it would be better for the both of them if she just left. He could cover this up, and after this dinner party her entire memory of this could disappear and she could go back to the comfortable life she had.

"Rose? Are you there?" Hermione had snapped out of her daze, and realized that she had been staring intensely at a vase for almost 5 minutes now. She found herself sitting next to Di Angelo and Zabini.

"Pardon me, I zoned out there for a second," she said a bit flustered.

"How come you aren't sitting with Malfoy?" Di Angelo said, her ruby red lips curving into a smirk. "Lovers quarrel?"

Hermione gave her a cool smile in return, "No, I just wanted to be closer to the fire." She didn't know what Di Angelo was up to, but she didn't like it.

"Carmen, stop picking on the poor girl," Zabini said with a charming smile. "Draco and I are good friends, Rose. As close as you can get to brothers. And I can't believe he never told me about you, seeing how  _delightful_ you are."

Di Angelo smoothed out her maroon gown as she added smugly, "Probably so you wouldn't steal her away." They all chuckled at the woman's jab at Zabini.

Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably, she wasn't 100% sure whether they were onto her. But she could sense that they were putting the pieces together. And if she learned anything from being trained as an Auror, it was to trust no one but your team. Luckily Montague made his way over, and she was saved temporarily.

"Rose, I was wondering if you'd like a tour of the gardens. They are quite beautiful at night," he said almost blinding her with his pearly white smile.

She glanced back at Malfoy who looked very engaged in a conversation with Maria and Astoria. Specifically more engaged with Astoria, seeing the amount of arm touching and throwing back of head when they laughed.

"I'd be delighted to, Graham," she replied. She remembered Malfoy's warning before the ball:  _He's charming, but don't buy into it. More importantly, do not be left alone with him. Otherwise, let's hope that the men keep their hands to their pretty little trophy wives tonight._  If Malfoy didn't need her, then she certainly didn't need him. She could protect herself. Her wand and dagger were attached to a holster underneath her dress if things escalated further than what she could handle.

He led her to the balcony that led out to the garden. It was a sight to behold. It looked enchanted. It was as if there were faeries flying around sprinkling their dust all around.

"It's unbelievable," Hermione gasped.

"Isn't it? It's been in my family for only a century, but still has its charm," he chuckled. "It has alluring beauty because it's untainted. Just like you, Rose."

She didn't dare blush; she didn't like where this was going. She thought she could get some intel before she finally left the case so she wouldn't walk out empty handed, but he looked at her with lust rather than trust. She was too naïve to see it at first and now she was truly screwed.

"It's rather chilly out here, we better head outside," she suggested to make her escape.

"A rose," he said as he began walking closer to her, "so innocent and fragile." Finally his face was extremely close to hers, and she made a move to back away. She began to walk away from him slowly, towards the house. He advanced towards her, and instead of letting her back away, he grabbed her roughly by the wrists and pressed her against the wall. She turned her face away from him, but he had her pinned and squeezed her face to face his.

"A rose," he said with burning desire in his eyes, "so…untouched." Then he proceeded to press his lips against hers, his tongue evaded her mouth. It was foul. She wanted to kick his ass so fucking bad, but it wouldn't be rational. He had the upper hand both physically and magically. He continued to taint her mouth with his disgusting slobbering and had started to moan. She continued to play the helpless little Rose, begging for him to stop, hoping that he actually would out of pity. But she supposed he liked that kind of stuff seeing that he started to run his hand under her dress.

Hermione truly started to panic; he was going to find her wand and her dagger, and what then? Unspeakable things would happen to her. Her heart began to beat the fastest it had ever beaten. She tried to scream, but his putrid lips always muffled her voice. She felt herself let out a few couple tears- she thought she could handle it. But she had just lost control over the situation. And just when she had given up, an angel appeared.

"Hey, boss. Sorry to interrupt your rendezvous but, Malfoy wants to leave and needs Rose back," Di Angelo said nonchalantly, leaning against the doorframe.

"Of course, Di Angelo. Not a problem. I think I might stay out here for a while. Good night, Rose. It has been a  _pleasure_  meeting you," Montague said, as he smoothed his sandy blonde hair that had gone out of place and pressed his lips against her hand.

Hermione was still struggling to catch her breath, and nodded her head in reply. She let Di Angelo guide her away from that horrid man and into the Manor's washroom.

"Get yourself together, and calm down. Understand?" Di Angelo demanded.

What had she just done? Hermione felt hot tears run down her face in shame. She  _knew_  it was dangerous. She  _knew_  what was going to happen to her. For once, she should have listened to Malfoy and none of this would have happened. She wasn't able to handle it on her own. She'd only be the crimpled and helpless woman she was during the  _incident_. She was a failure.

"You're not a failure. Get over yourself, princess. You're better than that," Di Angelo said firmly as Malfoy rushed towards her. The others had all left, and it was just them three remaining.

"I owe you, Di Angelo," she vaguely remembered him saying.

"Don't mention it. And I really do mean it. I have a reputation to uphold," the woman said before smoothing out her deep maroon dress and apparating away without saying good-bye. Hermione figured Di Angelo wasn't the type to linger.

Malfoy wrapped his arm around her waist and apparated them back to the Manor. Hermione could still feel Montague's feverish hot lips pressed up against hers, and she felt sick to her stomach. They both arrived back at lounging area, where he placed her in her favourite green armchair.

"Are you  _barking_  mad, woman?" he shouted. Here he goes… "What the fucking hell were you thinking? If I wasn't paying attention, and didn't send Di Angelo in there after you, you would have been a goner, Granger? Do you understand-"

"Shut up," she grumbled.

The fire ignited in his eyes flared, "No, you're going to hear this, whether you like it or not. Do you  _know_  how-"

" _Enough!"_ she yelled, getting up from her seat. "Why do you even care? You said it yourself: I ruined everything. You don't need me. So why even care what happens to me? As far as I'm concerned, you're better off leaving me to Montague."

"Potter," he said with no hesitation. "I'm responsible for you, and if you're gone, I get fired." And uncomfortable silence lay between the two, until Hermione opened her mouth to reply only to get cut off. "But that's not the point, Granger. The point is that you did something you knew was inevitably dangerous, practically emotional suicide, in spite of me. Don't deny it, Granger, it's true."

The sad part was that it was true. She tried to convince herself she wasn't upset about what Malfoy said, but she was, and it messed with her head. Her rationale disappeared, and what replaced it was vengeance. Determination to prove him wrong. But she had done the exact opposite of proving herself. She made a fool of herself and it felt awful to be on this side of things for once.

"I'm not. But if you hadn't dropped the bomb on me, and be a despicable, lying human being then maybe I wouldn't have felt the need to prove myself."

"You're the one that went searching for the truth. It's not my fault that you didn't like what you found."

Hermione's face grew red and shouted right in his face, "Oh my fucking Merlin! Yes, it was!  _You_  lied to  _me_ , Malfoy! If you hadn't done that I would have never wanted to find the truth out for myself. Stop trying to deny the fact that you did a horrible thing and then blame it on me! That's not how this wor-"

Suddenly the doors burst open and Narcissa stood there with the look of both disgust and outrage on her face.

"Stop it! Stop it right now," Both Hermione and Malfoy were face to face, both breathing heavily from all the shouting and faces red as a tomato. They had fallen silent. "I've had it up to here it you two, and I can't take it anymore. Sit down, both of you.  _Sit._ " They both reluctantly sat down on the couch at opposite ends as Narcissa stood there sternly, ready to reprimand them both.

First she looked at Hermione, shaking her head with disappointment written all over her face. "Hermione, I cannot  _believe_ what happened tonight."

"But-"

" _No._ Let me finish," she said holding a hand up to silence her. "You let Draco become between you and your common sense. Do you know what could have happened? It hurts that you didn't even think about all the people that care about you before taking a risk like that." She turned to look at Draco with a purely appalled look, "And  _Draco Lucius Malfoy_. I've had just about enough of your unacceptable behaviour. I know you have your work, but even when you're home, you're not. I've had my suspicions, Draco, but now I know for sure that you've been keeping things from me. Everyone has their secrets, but not like this. What was the point of even keeping Hermione around if you were just trying to get rid of her?"

"I wasn't trying to get rid of her; I wanted to work this case alone. And Granger made you so happy. The happiest you've been in a long time. How can I take that away from you?" Malfoy protested more calmly than he was with Hermione.

She looked at him with such discontent, "It seems like you already have."

Malfoy frowned, "Mother, I-" He tried to reach out to her, but she deflected him. She shook her head and continued:

"Since you've both decided to act like children. You're going to be treated like one. You are both grounded in this room until you get over your prideful selves. No one leaves until I approve. Good night." Before she or Malfoy had the chance to protest, she exited with a flourish of her wand, revealing a thin transparent wall lining the room. It was too late. Both of them sat in their seats for a moment in shock, looking down at their laps in guilt. She looked up to see what Malfoy was doing and he had gotten up, attempting to apparate out of the room.

"There's no use trying. She too smart to make apparating possible," she said monotonously. "Or mashing windows, picking locks, alohmora, bombardia, or knocking down the door manually. You underestimate her."

"No I don-"

"You do. You treat her like she's helpless and sad. That's why you thought that trying to get rid of me would make her unhappy. But what was really making her unhappy, was the fact that you were lying to her. And to me."

She watched Malfoy's expressions change as he was going through his chain of thought. He was angry at first at Hermione, first of all, because she had said some things that he didn't want to hear. But as he put the pieces together, his face grew more sad and ashamed.

"I'm so stupid," he said shaking his head, and placing it in his hands.

"You are," she agreed. "And I guess so am I." He wasn't the only one in the room that was ashamed. Narcissa was right. She hadn't been thinking about all the people that cared about her. In fact, she hadn't been thinking at all. She just went with her gut, and it was wrong. She was being selfish, which went against everything she stood for.

They both sat in a tense silence for a very long time, just thinking. Until Hermione let her both her curiosity and anger towards Malfoy get the best of her.

"Why'd you do it, Malfoy?" she asked him abruptly.

"I told you, I wanted to do this on my  _own_ ," he said trying to sound nonchalant but ended up sounding defensive.

Hermione pushed further, "But  _why_?"

He sighed before explaining, "You know how tainted my name has become? And the looks I get on the street? The comments or curses I hear under all their breaths? Or worse? It may not seem like it, but after awhile it hurts. And I deserve all of it. I chose to be one of them, despite not wanting to. I chose to bully you and Potter and Weasley. And all the other muggle-borns. I wasn't forced. I chose to do all those things."

Hermione looked at him with pity. He was only a child. A mislead one, at that. She accepted his apology from before and forgave him for the things he's done in the past. Perhaps he deserved some things for naturally being an asshole, but he certainly didn't deserve it for being a child Death Eater. It made sense to her now but it didn't mean she was any less mad.

"Don't look at me like that, Granger. It's true. I need a chance to redeem myself.  _This_  is my atonement for everything I've done. And if they see your name on this case…"

"It'll feel like you didn't do enough? That I was doing most of the work?" she finished for him and he nodded without looking at her. They sat in silence, neither of them knowing what to say.

"You rarely listen, but if you did you'd know I've been saying this whole time: this is supposed to be partnership," he stared at her confused at what she was trying to get at. "Oh, I'm sorry, you don't know what that word means. A partnership is two people working together. Doing equal shares. Having each other's backs when one's in danger. And being  _true_  to each other. Did it ever occur to you that having both of our names on the case might actually be a good thing? I mean, we hated each other. There isn't a better way to prove you've changed sides than working with the brains of the Golden Trio," she said trying to sound optimitistic, but couldn't help sounding bitter nearing the end. And then again, they found them selves in an excruciating silence. Malfoy opened him mouth to say something a few times, but nothing came out. Finally he managed to blurt something out, but not having it in him to glance over at her.

"You don't have to prove yourself to me. You don't have to prove yourself to anyone. And just because someone says you're not needed doesn't mean they're saying you can't hold your own against people," he said with a certain urgency and firmness in his voice, but she knew it was sincere.

Hermione had always felt the need to prove herself. Being a muggleborn at Hogwarts, she needed to prove that muggleborns were just as smart as purebloods or half-bloods. Being a part of the 'Golden Trio', she needed to prove that girls could hold their own against boys. With Ron, she needed to prove to herself that she could hold a relationship together. But we all know how well that worked out.

He cleared his throat and muttered awkwardly, "That's not to say that I don't need you, because, I, uh, do."

She smirked, and asked with mock confusion, "I'm sorry what was that?"

"I do, uh, need you?" he said in a form of a question, his eyes looking at everything but her.

"I'm sorry, I  _really_  can't catch what you're saying. Can you speak up?"

"I need somebody to help me just in case I fall in a ditch or something, and can't get out. Okay?" he said angrily, and turned towards her with a glare. "I need you, Granger. Don't make me say it again, or I swear I'll hex you."

She scoffed, "Like you'll be able to. From now on we work as a team, got it, Malfoy? But I better not get Diva Malfoy, got it?"

"So long as I don't get 'Let's-do-stupid-things-in-spite-of-Draco' Granger," he said annoyed. He opened his mouth to say something again, but closed it.

He looked at her with concern, "Are you okay?"

She turned away from him, and squirmed in her seat a bit. "Yeah."

Was she really okay? She didn't know. She didn't want to let a simple act of sexual harassment get to her head. But it almost felt as if she was trying to convince herself she was all right out of her pride, when in reality she felt violated and vulnerable. She felt the reality of these undercover missions: that there were a lot of things you couldn't do in order to keep everything under wraps. And one of those things was not being able to protect herself from….that. She didn't like that feeling of not being able to do something. That was her thing, you know. There was always something they could do.

"Granger," he said, grabbing her attention and looking at her with all seriousness he could muster. "I  _promise_  you, after all this, I'm make sure he gets what he deserves and that'll you'll be there to see to it."

She inhaled deeply, "Thank you for that." Hermione looked at Malfoy weirdly, just as he looked at her weirdly. It was unfamiliar to her. They both realized they had been looking longer than they should, and broke away.

"We should be able to get out now," Malfoy said as he got up to check the doors, but they wouldn't budge. He tried again, pulling as hard as he could, but nothing. "Fucking hell. It's locked," he cursed, kicking the door with his foot.

"That woman is mad," Hermione said, getting up to check for herself but she had no such luck. She attempted to apparate, but she didn't move an inch.

"Imagine having to grow up with her," he said dryly. "Wait, I've got it. Mindy?"

 _Crack!_ The little house elf appeared before their eyes. "Good evening, Master Draco."

"Good evening. Can you get Miss Garrot and I out of this room please?"

"Sorry, Master," Mindy said sadly. "Missus Black said to Mindy not to let Missus Garrot or Master out of the room until morning."

"Of course, classic mother," Malfoy muttered bitterly. "Mindy, please grab Missus Garrot and I our sleeping clothes and something we can brush our teeth with."

Hermione looked around the room. It was just a simple lounging area, no bathrooms nor beds in sight. There was a liquor cabinet and a small bookcase with a round table in either corner. And a fireplace for warmth. But other than that there was just a couch, a green armchair, and few other chairs with throw pillows and blankets draped over them. Considering they would be spending the night here, she preferred not to be sleeping right side up.

"I call the couch," she called, walking over to it.

"No, I call the couch," Malfoy protested, meeting her face to face.

"I'm the guest."

"Well, I  _own_  the room."

"Fine, we'll settle it the old fashion way. Rock, paper, scissors."

"Fine. But I'm at a disadvantage here. Potter has only taught me this twice and you've been doing it since you've been born."

"Enough excuses," she said as they both prepared their hands for battle. "Rock, paper, scissors. Fuck." Her scissors had been crushed by his rock, and was defeated.

"Malfoy's always win," he said smugly, grabbing one of the blankets to make a bed.

"Wait, can't we just transfigure them in a bed?" she said desperately, and obviously.

"Are you mad? These are very expensive and hand-made. I don't trust you, let alone myself, to transfigure these back into their original forms," he said pretentiously, at least in her opinion anyway. "You're just being a sore loser." Hermione growled and pouted, as she grabbed her blanket and pillow and slumped in her armchair.

 _Crack!_ "Here are your clothes, Master and Missus." Both of them took turns brushing their teeth and getting dressed, until they both were ready to settle in.

She felt Malfoy glance over at her, "The Holey-Head Harpies, really? I didn't peg you for a quidditch fan." He motioned towards her t-shirt. It was given to Ron by Ginny, but he never wore it. It was too large for her and hung off of her body, but it reminded her of home and helped her sleep.

"I'm not." Hermione looked over at Malfoy, who wore only a pair of long pyjama bottoms and nothing else. She eyed his pale bare chest suspiciously, "Don't you have a shirt?"

He flashed her the same suspicious look, "Don't you have some pants?"

She looked down at her long, bare legs. His shirt had been longer on her old body, but on her new one…"Touché."

Hermione curled up into a little ball on the green armchair, tucking her knees close to her chest and head resting on the little throw pillow. It certainly wasn't as bad as she was making it out to be. She had fallen asleep on this armchair reading before. She just really wanted the sleep on the couch so her neck didn't ache in the morning.

"'Night, Granger," Malfoy called over from the couch.

"Goodnight," she replied. The fire had died down, and the light in the room had gotten very dim. Hermione closed her eyes and could hear it crackling and Malfoy shifting around.

"Malfoy?"

"What is it, Granger?" he answered, irritated.

"Just because we're a team now doesn't mean you don't infuriate me any less."

"Ditto."

"We're not going to do each other's hair or tell each other our deepest darkest secrets. You still lied. It was a big lie."

"Okay."

"You'll have to earn back our trusts."

"Granger?"

"Yes?"

" _Shut_  up and go to sleep."

"Fine."

Hermione snuggled further into the nest she had made. She didn't know that so much could happen in 24 hours. But it did, and it wore her out. She had felt every emotion on the spectrum today and now, she just felt gross. She felt like a hot mess that needed to be cleaned up. She hoped that a good night's rest would do that.

She inhaled the scent of her t-shirt and floated into sleep, letting herself regress into her old memories of the gang. Holding onto the happiness she felt in those moments, and not letting go.

* * *

_A long chapter this time! Yippee! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, not my best writing but good enough. Please feel free to fav, follow, or review this story. Your reviews keep me going. More to come. I love you guys, thank you for reading!_

_GeekAttack xoxox_

 


	12. Expose

Draco woke up with his head throbbing. It was mostly likely the aftermath of all that yelling that he was doing, and all the yelling he was enduring. But the worst part about last night was the look on his mother's face. Disappointment. Distress. Dismayed. Granger was right. He had treated her like some kind of fragile flower and lied to keep her from falling apart, and now he suffered the consequences.

His mother had always wanted a daughter. His father demanded that they have only one child. That it must only be a boy. Every year, when his father was out of town, his mother would take him to far end of the grounds where she had buried them. His never born sisters. She would never admit it, but a small part of her died along with them. Having Granger around, well, it almost seemed like she temporarily filled that part again.

He thought it would be just fine, if he let Granger think she was working the case so she would stay and keep his mother happy. While he would be the one working the case to clear his name. It was a fucking stupid plan. He knew that now. Granger wasn't a burden, she was an asset. His mother didn't want someone else to be there for her, someone else's love. She wanted his. If only he had seen things thing clearly, then he wouldn't feel such a weight be lifted off his shoulders only to be replaced by an even heavier one. He had a lot to do.

Draco finally decided to get up. It was still dark in the room, for the curtains had been shut and the fire had died out.  _Lumos._ Granger was still sleeping in a ball in his armchair, her hair spilling everywhere. He let her sleep for his own safety, and opened the door that seemed to be unlocked. How curious. He walked into the kitchen, and began to make breakfast. He had installed one after Weasl-Ginny had taught him how to make cookies when he was waiting for Potter one day.

He settled on making cookies for breakfast, seeing they were the only things he could make well. He also attempted to make eggs and toast. The elves knew they weren't allowed to bother him while he was cooking, for they always wanted to take over. But he could feel them standing at the doorway, with the looks of horror on their faces and probably wincing as he poured the eggs into the pan.

After an hour and a half or so, he walked proudly with a plate of cookies and eggs with toast into the dining room where he found his mother sipping her tea with wedding magazines laid out in front of her. She looked up at him, then immediately looked back down at her papers. He placed the food on the table, and went to her side.

"Mother, I'm so, so sorry."

"I know," she said softly.

"I thought I was doing the right thing. And I was just trying to make you happy and I-"

" _You_  make me happy, Draco. You are my son," she said clasping his cheek with her hand. "But I never see you. And when I do you are in too much of a rush to say anything meaningful. I'm just worried about you."

"I know," he said closing his eyes, leaning into her comforting touch.

" _What_  is going on, Draco?"

"Mum, I," he hesitated. He couldn't tell her. Not because he couldn't trust her. And not because he thought she couldn't take it, but because he knew it would overcomplicate things that didn't need to be. His secrets didn't need to affect his relationship with his family. "I can't tell you. It's business. But I promise you I will do anything and everything to make it up to you, okay?"

She looked down, "I'm scared those are just empty promises."

"They're not," he said hugging her tightly. "We've gone through too much and I love you too much for that. I'm sorry."

His mother had always been there for him. Through every decision, every achievement or failure. She was right there supporting him, protecting him. And he only wanted to do the same for her.

"I love you too," she said as she smoothed out his hair. "And, Draco, sweetie?"

"Yes, mum?"

"Please put a shirt on. Honestly, love. I raised you to be modest," she said whacking him on the arm as he chuckled at her. She began to gather her things, "Tell Hermione that she has tea at the Greengrass's at 1 o'clock. I'll meet her in lounge at five to one. I have a few errands to run, but I'll see you later, dear." She kissed him on both cheeks, and rushed out the room leaving him alone with his cookies and eggs with toast.

Granger entered, with her hair still wet. Unlike him, she had taken a shower and had gotten dressed. She wore a dark blue cotton shirt and a mustard yellow skirt. He watched her catch a whiff of what he had made, and her face looked repulsed.

"Did you burn a body and try to cover it up with sugar?" she asked, fanning herself so it lessened the putrid smell.

Draco was offended, "Sorry, if I tried to do something nice and made breakfast. Next time, get someone else to do it."

She snorted, "That's breakfast? I didn't recognize it because it's so burnt." She snatched up a cookie and stuffed it in her mouth, "At least the cookies are good. Is this Ginny's recipe?" He nodded. "Taste's just like Molly's."

Draco looked down at the meal that he was so proud at. He supposed she was right. The toast was a little blackened and the eggs were a little watery and black, but he'd still eat them. He moved the plate closer to him, and then immediately back. He threw up in his mouth a little.

"See? I told you."

"Well, if you're so much better. Why don't you make breakfast?" he said defensively, even though he knew his food was terrible and quite frankly, feces might be better than that.

"Fine," she shrugged, snatching up another cookie. "But we have work to do first. Tell me everything I need to know. And I do mean  _everything_ , Malfoy." He opened his mouth to start, but she immediately interrupted. "Can you put a shirt on first please?"

He smirked, "I'm sorry, is my body distracting you?" He flexed his muscles, and watched her face turn red out of embarrassment. "Too bad. Freedom of expression."

Her eyes narrowed, "And what exactly are you expressing?"

"My attractiveness," Draco said winking. He loved to pick on her.

She rolled her eyes, "You know what? Forget it. We're all professionals here."

"If you say so," he replied. "As you know, Montague is the head of this operation. What happens is that each month an auction is run. We have a list of people who sign up to get notices of when these meetings occur and these notices are only revealed with a certain code that is given at the end of each month's auction. It's a very smooth operation, each person has a certain job and doesn't interfere with anyone else's."

Hermione nodded, beginning to put pieces together, "And that's why you needed Astoria. For identification."

"Precisely. I can't take over for her so I won't be able to access any records. My job is organizing and supervising the pieces up for auction. Each auction is held in a different remote location. Montague takes care of the security of the place personally. He ensures that everyone who enters or exits is identified, and creating protecting spells around the place. I've analyzed it, and there is a lot of complicated spell work. Knowing Montague there must be some dark magic used, so I've been doing some research on that. There are only 2 entrances at each location. One in the back for delivery and one in the front for the clients. Therefore ambush might either be the best or the worst solution in this case."

He watched Granger take everything, "When is the next auction taking place?"

"Two weeks from now."

"And of the clients? Have you been able to identify any of them?"

"One or two. Many of them send their assistants or someone of that sort to do the bidding for them. But I've kept vials of memories with their faces on them."

"Excellent. Well, we still have two weeks but here's what I have in mind."

Granger fashioned a plan similarly to his, only they'll be able to get it done faster with the both of them. It wasn't their master plan, but a step towards catching them. It was obvious that both him and Granger needed more intel. They needed to find the sources of the content. Where are these artefacts coming from? Secondly, they needed to know who was buying. And lastly they needed to figure out a way to get through the spellbound wall Montague put up.

Draco would be responsible for uncovering the sources if he could. Investigating into some of the objects and its origins, things like that. Granger would be in charge of the actual identification of clients. She couldn't steal the actual records, but she could research and cross-reference it with the memories in the vials. And finally they'd both work together to research dark magic. He and Granger both knew a bit because of the war, but certainly not enough to break a protection barrier or hold their own against someone who specialized in it. And hopefully, they'd gather enough intel to start planning their big move.

"Oh shit," Draco had forgotten to mention the tea party this afternoon. He looked down at his watch: 12:54. They had been talking for 3 hours.

"What is it?" she said confused.

"I was supposed to tell you to meet mother in the lounge for the Greengrass tea party right now," he said cringing, waiting for her to snap.

Her eyes grew wide, and she sprung out of her seat. "I'm going to fucking kill you, Malfoy!" She ran as fast as she could out of the room to be there on time.

Draco had to say he liked this whole new teamwork thing. It meant less work for him, even if his partner was an irritable know-it-all. It was refreshing to have someone to match him intellectually for once. And he liked not having to bottle all of this in all the time. It may sound horrible, but he liked not having the burden all on himself. He'd never admit it, but he wasn't handling it all that well on his own. He was struggling to keep it all together, but pushed through it even if it was too much.

Draco sighed as he picked up another cookie and munched on it. This was a fresh start for the both of them so long as he doesn't fuck it up. Well, it was almost as fresh start; he still wasn't able to tell her the truth about 'the group' under Potter's orders. As much as he wanted to for her own safety, Potter wasn't budging.

This was one of those times where he questioned whether Potter really did know best. If Draco learned anything, it was that lying wasn't the way to go. Even if you're trying to protect the people you care about, all it does is hurt.

* * *

The Greengrass Manor was smaller than Malfoy Manor, but no less extravagant. Its pearly white exterior glimmered in the afternoon sun, and their gardens were filled with intricate displays of flowers, which made for a perfect setting for their afternoon tea. Hermione, Narcissa, Mrs. Greengrass, Astoria, Daphne, Mrs. Parkinson, and Pansy all sat under pastel coloured umbrellas in their backyard. They all sat around a round white metal table, with a sheet of glass on top. Each woman sat with their legs crossed, properly sipping their tea.

Hermione was in a good mood before Malfoy 'reminded' her of this tea party. Of course, it was for the mission's sake. But it didn't mean she had to like it. Growing up with two male best friends, she almost felt a little overwhelmed with the amount of stereotypical girly-ness camaraderie going on. Perhaps it was her posture making her feel this way, but she felt so stiff. She even felt the way she spoke more different around these women.

"I hope you girls don't mind if I take your mothers, or soon to be mother-in-laws, in the house to show them something," Mrs. Greengrass said as the girls shook their head in reply. They all watched Mrs. Greengrass, Narcissa, and Mrs. Parkinson disappeared indoors.

"Finally," Daphne said pulling out a flask and pouring its unknown contents into her tea. She took another swig of the flask, and stashed it away again. "I thought they would never leave. I can only take so much."

"Merlin, Daph. At this hour you shouldn't," Pansy nagged with annoying nasally voice Hermione remembered from Hogwarts. "You know, they say that alcohol can make you gain weight." Daphne rolled her eyes at the pug-faced girl.

Astoria looked at Hermione haughtily, "So, Rose, you never told us the story of how you and Drakey met."

Hermione felt everything get very tense between her and Astoria, if that was even possible. She was already uncomfortable talking about Malfoy, let alone about her 'romance' with him around his two exes'. Such fun.

"Well, as you know, after Lucius got arrested, Draco and Narcissa wanted to escape the press and all the commotion. It was just too much to handle. My mother and Narcissa were good friends, so we invited her to stay with us up in at our summerhouse in France. That was when Draco and I started to get close and, the rest is history," she said with a slight smile. From the corner of her eye she could Pansy shedding a few tears as she stared directly at Astoria the entire time.

"How romantic," Daphne said dryly, raising her teacup, as if to toast to their love. "May you not want a divorce two weeks in." She downed her drink as Pansy looked at her appalled.

"She didn't mean that, really," Pansy gushed to Hermione. "That's a lovely story. Do you want to hear the story of how-"

Astoria rolled her eyes, "You've told that story before, Pansy. So, Daph, how are things going with Marcus?"

"You  _know_  how things are going with Marcus," Daphne narrowed her eyes at her brown-haired sister.

"Is he still sleeping with his receptionist again?" Astoria said with insincere concern, placing her hand over her heart. "Pity, you two were  _so_  good together."

Hermione looked passive on the outside, but felt indescribable rage towards Astoria on the inside. What person does that to their sister? Let alone in front of her friends? She was certain that Astoria was the devil in disguise. She wanted to rip her pretty little face into small little pieces and feed them to the dogs.

Pansy took this as a cue to change the subject, "Did you guys hear the news?" The two sisters seemed to settle down, but Daphne wouldn't stop glaring at Astoria, who kept a smug grin on her face. Disgusting. Hermione was glad she was an only child.

"What news?" Hermione asked.

"Rumour has it, Blaise Zabini is back and has a new bimbo on his arm," she said bitterly. Hermione didn't know of any history between Pansy and Zabini. Perhaps she was out of the loop for too long.

"I'll place my bets on Di Angelo," Astoria pitched in. "They attended Graham's party together last night." Hermione's mind went back to the gorgeous dark skinned woman with the red dress from last night. She disagreed with Astoria, they gave off more of a friendship vibe. Not that she cared, of course.

"I think he has more of a boy toy than a bimbo, if you ask me," Daphne said sarcastically.

"You think?" Pansy said, shocked.

"Sure," Daphne continued. "Either way, it's definitely not you. So stop waiting for him to pick you up. Besides you're married."

Pansy frowned, "But it doesn't mean I'm not allowed to have my fun. You're such a prude." Daphne looked away as Pansy realized what she had just said and gasped. "Oh Merlin, Daphne. I didn't mean it, really, I didn't." Daphne got up slowly and walked towards the house. Pansy got up from her seat to go after her, but Hermione put a hand up to stop her.

"No," she said. "You stay here, I'll go after her." Pansy nodded and began to burst into tears. Hermione glanced over at Astoria who held a self-assured look of 'that's too bad' written all over her face as she put a deceitful arm around Pansy to comfort her.

She rushed into the house after Daphne, leaving the toxic situation behind her. This was why she didn't like hanging out with Lavender and Pavarti at Hogwarts. Too much catty drama. She found Daphne sitting on the sofa with her heels off, looking out the window with a drink in her hand.

"I don't have a drinking problem, Sunshine. My flask was filled with water not vodka. But this? This is really fire whisky. This is the real stuff," she said. "You want some?" Hermione shrugged. One sip couldn't hurt. She felt the liquid burn her throat in a pleasant manner. "Sunshine's has a tough side to her, huh?"

"You going to tell me what that was all about or no?"

Daphne pretended to think about it for a second, "Uh, no. I just needed an excuse to get out of that hellhole. Luckily there's not a single brain in Pansy's head so she was putty in my hands."

Hermione was confused. "So you aren't upset about your husband cheating on you?"

"'Course not. No one cares about fidelity in our society, Sunshine. We seem to be so proper and put together on the outside, but once you're in you're either crazy like me or lustful like Little Miss I'm-Above-Everyone-Else over there. Besides, our marriage was only for appearances anyway. I don't give a damn about who he sleeps with so long as it doesn't ruin my reputation," Daphne took another sip of her drink as Hermione took off her heels as well, joining her on the sofa.

Hermione was learning more things about pureblood society now, than she had in the two weeks she had been training with Narcissa. She supposed Narcissa was just trying to steer her away from that end of society.

"Oh," Hermione replied. "So what does that make me? Crazy or lustful?"

"You see," Daphne began, handing Hermione her glass so she could take another sip. "You're different, Sunshine. You're the rare person in society that falls victim. The innocent and naïve puppet that people use to get what they want. People like Astoria, for example." Hermione was interested to see where Daphne was going with this. "However, like your namesake you are beautiful but you're also dangerous. Touch a Rose in the wrong way and you get pricked."

"Excellent use of simile," she acknowledged. "But I'm still not getting what you're trying to say."

"Okay how about this: you're dangerous and I'm dangerous. You're a puppet and I'm crazy. You hate Astoria and I hate Astoria."

"I do not hate your sister," Hermione protested. It took all the will power she could muster to make that lie convincing.

"Come on, Sunshine. You are the only person I know that is actually in love with their fiancée-" Hermione almost gagged, but managed to hold it in, "-and have a spouse that Astoria is trying to bed. It's a perfect plan!"

Hermione was amused by Daphne's persistence, but as much as she  _strongly disliked_  Astoria and wanted to throw her off the face of the earth- she needed her. She was also amused at how Daphne thought she and Malfoy were the only couple  _actually_  in love. It was so ironic. No romance detected here. Nada. Zippo. Rien.

"Shit, I think I hear the mothers coming. Pass me my shoes," Daphne said in a softer volume as they both rushed to put themselves together and not look like they've been drinking for the past hour or so.

"And so I said, you aren't going to find any nargles with that on your head!" Hermione said, as the mother walked in. Daphne burst out in fake laughter and the women looked at them, smiling.

"It looks like you two are enjoying yourselves," Mrs. Greengrass observed, pleased to see her daughter get along with someone for once.

"Come on, Rose. It's time for us to leave," Narcissa said, motioning for her to say goodbye.

Hermione and Daphne kissed each other's cheeks good-bye as Daphne whispered in her ear: "Just think about it." Hermione nodded in reply as she joined Narcissa to say good-bye to Pansy and Astoria outside. Finally, Hermione apparated her and Narcissa back to the Manor after her first, and hopefully her last, afternoon tea.

The women began to walk down the hall together in silence, until Narcissa broke it abruptly. "While we're alone, I was wondering whether I may ask you something about Draco."

"Okay," she replied, shifting uneasily.

"Is he safe?" Narcissa hesitated, inhaling sharply, "I know he says that he has work, but I've heard it enough times to know it's a lie. He's my  _boy._ "

Hermione's eyes adverted to the floor, and stopped walking. Hermione didn't know the full details of Malfoy's private life and up until now she didn't know much about his work life either. But she knew that he could tell her these things because they were partners, but he couldn't tell Narcissa. She understood the feeling of not being able to tell your mother or father something. It was the reason why she never told her parents much about the war. It only put them into danger if they knew anything about her- that's why she erased their memories and moved them somewhere safe. But she guessed that method wasn't foolproof because they found them and killed them anyway. That's beside the point. Malfoy has his reasons.

"It really is work, Cissy. It's nothing bad. After your  _talk_ , Malfoy and I talked things through. So now he won't have to be working such long hours because I'll be taking the other half of the load." Like she was supposed to in the first place.

Narcissa nodded, "I understand. I know you two are both Aurors and this is all confidential, and what not. But you two are not immortal. It's a dangerous place out there, Hermione. I know from experience, and so do you. Just make sure you're not in too deep that you can't get out."

"I will."

"Oh, and Hermione?" she said, as Hermione felt her warm hand grasp hers.  
"Please take care of him. He says he doesn't need anyone but himself to, but he does. We all do," she requested with a sad smile and look that made Hermione feel as if she had no other option but to say yes.

"Of course. I'll see to it."

"Thank you," Narcissa said, satisfied with her answer. "I'll see you at supper."

After today's encounter, Hermione felt ready for what was to come. In order to gather more faces to cross reference with Malfoy's vials she would need to attend more get-togethers like this, much to her dismay. At least she knew Narcissa would be there as her way out of things, and Daphne would be her source of entertainment.

She was intrigued by Daphne's character. She had such cynical views of pure-blood society but it also seems as if she loved being a part of it because it was an excuse to get revenge on her sister. Don't get her wrong; if Hermione had a sister like that surely she would too. Daphne seemed like the only one who understood that everything in this society-the women, the men, the balls, the tea parties- was fake.

Just like the Ministry, their foundations were built upon lies, which only resulted in corruption. Its outer layer was just a façade. They showed you the institution or person that you wanted to see because they have it all figured out. We make a fool of ourselves while they, they sit back on their thrones of gold and emeralds laughing at all the people they had fooled. The one group of people that you trust is the group that will stab you in the back and leave you to the dead. It's almost funny. At least it is for Daphne, anyway.

Even if they were both using each other, Hermione found a sense of comfort with Daphne. And that was a feeling that she missed.

Hermione thought she'd regroup with Malfoy and get a head start with her research. She loved walking down the halls of the Manor, and it wasn't just because the paintings on the walls didn't have people in them so she wouldn't be cursed at. She shivered as she was reminded of the painting of Mrs. Black back at Grimmauld place. She loved walking down the halls because it had a certain smell. Like the smell of a book or the smell of fresh laundry. It had one of those smells that she could not describe its characteristics. But she could say that the smell reminded her of her parents' home. Of course, it wasn't as old as Malfoy Manor but their house was the older kind that held  _that_  smell.

Hermione had become so lost in her own thought about smells that she had past Malfoy's office a few minutes ago. Instead, she appeared to be heading down the corridor towards Carina's room. Hermione found it strange that it seemed like there was something, subconsciously perhaps, that was pulling her to Carina. She wasn't one to believe in high powers, but there was definitely something fishy going on and she was going to find out what.

She knocked on the door before entering. She found Carina lying on the grass and staring up at the clouds as she stroked her pale blonde hair. Carina heard her knock and smiled as she came in.

"Rose," Carina exclaimed. "You're not scared of me, are you? I mean, I know I'm intimidating but it 's no reason to stop seeing me."

Hermione laughed, "Of course not. I've just been busy with important  _marriage_  stuff, you know. There's a lot that goes into-"

Carina groaned, "Please refrain from boring me with the details."

They sat in an odd silence for a while as they both felt the tension from the previous time they had met. Hermione wasn't sure she should even ask her what happened. She was curious and found herself caring for the young girl's well being, but at the same time she could be risking losing her altogether.

"About the other day…" Carina began, also sensing the awkwardness between the two.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Hermione urged. She didn't want to feel like she was forced to do or say anything. She was sure that Carina had enough of that in her lifetime.

"I know I don't," she snapped. "I want to, alright? I've never met your fiancée, but my brother always talked about naming his son Draco. Never shut up about it, really. Always spoke about his life once our parents were out of the picture. How good life would be for us. He would settle down with a honourable woman to have a son with and that would be the end of it. I guess it all worked out for him, didn't it?"

Everything came together for Hermione and she got the picture. It was Lucius. Her brother. But as she spoke of him Hermione got mixed signals. On one hand, Carina sounded like she missed him and remembered those memories lovingly. But on the other, it sounded like she held some kind of resentment and bitterness towards him. The way she spoke- it was like she was angry with him for having a life of his own.

"I guess it did," Hermione replied softly, looking down at her hands.

"It didn't, Rose," Carina said sharply, "You lied."

Hermione looked at her, slightly shocked at her bluntness, "Carina I-"

"People say I have a knack for reading faces," she shot back. She looked at Hermione with her large grey eyes pouring into hers. There was a part of her that had to ask Hermione:

"He's dead, isn't he?"

There was no escaping the truth now: "Yes."

* * *

I'm sorry about the late update! Really, I am. I've just started Game of Thrones and I've slipped into my obsession phase again. I don't usually talk about the content of my chapters in my A/Ns but I wanted to for this one. The part of the chapter where Draco talks about his unborn sisters was inspired by female infanticide which used to be very common in certain countries. Compared to males, females used to be seen as the weaker gender not only politically but is at a time where children got married very young (which is still common today in certain parts of the world) and women needed dowries and families needed male "heirs" etc.

I apologize for rambling, but it was just heavy on my mind and wanted to share it with you. Once again, thank you for all your support and reviews. You are such lovely people! Please fav, follow, or review this story if you wish. More to come.

GeekAttack xoxoxo


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